Eternal Damnation
by VeraSaville
Summary: In the spring of 1914, Edward Masen returns home to his loving mother and his five year old admirer but mysteriously disappears and is left for dead. Fourteen years later, Bella Swan crosses paths with a faceless stranger with the last name Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer**.

* * *

EPOV

**Spring 1914**

Everything was as I'd left it when I returned to my hometown of _Les Fourchettes_ in the spring of 1914. I seated myself atop a boulder on the hill overlooking the small locale which five generations of Masens have called their home. If I strained my sight enough I could even see smoke coming out of a red brick chimney which belonged to the house my mother had raised me in. Everything was the way it should be; the smell, the sounds, the sight. Everything.

My heart felt like it was about to burst from the urgency of seeing my mother and having another home cooked meal again. I wanted to sprint across the green plains, past the _eglise_, past the _patisserie_ and past the pub, where no doubt Monsieur Noir was recovering from last night's endeavors, and run right into my mother's welcoming, loving arms. Of course, my body, being as stubborn as it can be sometimes, refused to move from the boulder. So I supposed my athletic urges would have to be kept at bay until I had more stamina.

Taking a sip from my canister, I couldn't help but grin at the realization of where I was sitting. Eight months ago, I had been at this exact same spot, afraid of taking another step forward. It was the farthest I'd ever been from home, even on my naughtiest days. I was afraid of what I'd find ahead but somehow I managed carry on. I was right to be afraid of course. The things I'd seen during my travels across the France were not for the lighthearted but it was worth it. I'd never truly realized how much was to be seen outside Les Fourchettes. Never in my dreams, had I thought that I'd meet people who, live in shanties, clothe themselves in rags, find pleasure in whores and yet possess the most intriguing and almost brilliant intelligence and outlook on life.

I was brought out of my musing by the hurried movements of jackrabbit. I took another sip of from my canister, picked up my _sac_ and headed towards the town.

I was met by pin drop silence when I made my way through the only paved street in town. It was, of course, Sunday and everyone, including my mother, would be at the _eglise_ for service. I decided to wait outside the_ eglise_ doors until the service was over so that I could surprise my mother. Exhaustion took over me as I did so and I plopped onto a nearby bench. I was about to drift off to sleep when I heard the doors opening. Certainly the service wasn't over? I could still hear the hymns being sung inside. I wearily opened my eyes to see a little russet skinned boy wearing a mischievous smirk come out. He was closely followed by a brunet girl of his age whose hair was braided on two sides.

"Show it to me!" the girl begged.

"You really want to see it?" the boy chided.

"Yes, yes," she whined, "show me!"

"All right come here," he motioned him to come closer. She obeyed and waited. He raised a fisted hand to her. In a swift motion he unraveled his fist, slapped her on both cheeks and began laughing. The little girl was too shocked to react. After what had happened had sunk in she began sobbing.

"Jacob Noir!" I hollered.

The boy, Jacob, froze and turned around to meet my angry gaze. That was all it took for him to yelp and run off into the bushes.

The girl, little Bella, suddenly forgot her pain and humiliation when she saw me. She came running to me and jumped onto me to give me a big hug, "Edward! You're back!" she said in between the last of her sobs.

"Oui, Jacob has been giving you trouble again?"

"Oh he won't anymore. He's really scared of you. You know when you weren't here he'd pull on my pigtails all the time. It really hurts you know," she said, as though her pigtails were the biggest treasures in the world. Her big brown chocolate eyes twinkled as she looked up at me. "Don't leave again okay? I might lose all of my hair if you do."

I chuckled, "Well, I'm not going anywhere for a while. So you will have your pretty hair for some time to come."

"Good, I missed you Edward."

"I missed you too _ma petite choue"_

"And I missed you more than Tanya okay?"

"Tanya missed me?" I asked. I've missed a lot of things while I was away but if there was something I didn't miss, it was the nonsensical rants of my fiancée Tanya. She'd thrown an infantile tantrum when I'd announced that I'd be traveling for a while. Alas, I knew I'd have to face her sometime. We were, after all, to be married as soon as possible. Her father was one of the wealthiest men in the province and when I'd piqued her interest, I saw it as a godsend. My mother and I were having a difficult time running the farm all by ourselves and a marriage to one of the wealthiest women in Les Fourchettes would definitely help us financially.

"Can I tell you something?" Bella said in a hushed whisper.

"Bien sur."

"I don't think you should marry her."

"And why is that?"

"Because I think you should marry me."

I couldn't help but chuckle at this very innocent remark "But you don't think I'm a little too old for you Bella?"

"No, I'll be six in two months."

"But I'll still be twenty-three then."

"Ok, so then I can wait till I'm ten."

"Bella, I'll be twenty –eight then."

I could see her mind hard at work but I knew that most five year olds aren't very skilled when it comes to numbers.

"So when will I be grown up enough for you?"

"I grow old just like you Bella. We'll never be the same age."

"But…" she desperately looked for an excuse. Her chain of thought was interrupted by the sound of the _eglise _doors bursting open. I put Bella down, saying, "I'm going to find Maman now okay? You'll be able to make it home?"

She nodded. I picked up my _sac_ and hid behind a tree to look out for my mother. The people, all familiar faces, began to file out. I made myself as inconspicuous as possible behind the tree when I saw Tanya, in her fur coat, far too extravagant for a town of farmers, being escorted out by her father. Maman was the last one to come out of the church.

Seeing her there, clutching her bible, no doubt after having prayed for my safety and health, I felt guilty for having left her. It was selfish of me to leave her alone to do the chores on the farm. She had lost far too much weight and had dark bags under her eyes. I snuck up behind her and called quietly to her, "Maman!"

She stopped in her tracks and turned around. She made no response at first. Walking towards me skeptically she gently touched my face. It was now slowly dawning on her that I was real. Tears pooled in her eyes as she took me in her arms and fluttered my face with kisses, "Edward! I can't believe it's you! It's really you! It's been too long _mon petit chou_!" I picked her up and spun her around like I've done ever since I grew taller and stronger than her.

I was home at last.

* * *

**A/N : Hope you enjoyed this! I'm really excited to write this story. If done right it can be an amazing love story. If you enjoyed, REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not Twilight or any of its characters. Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer**

* * *

**EPOV**

"_Maman_, sit down please," I wearily begged as my mother dashed from one corner of our small kitchen to the other. She placed a mug of warm milk in front of me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"I'll go draw you a bath," she said before disappearing somewhere at the back. I must've dosed off as the next thing I remember was the rough yet warm touch of my mother's hand. I supposed an inspection was in order. I spread my palms out on the table so that she could see them clearly.

"I'm perfectly fine _Maman_," I assured her.

She didn't respond. Picking my hand up, she inspected it in the light. She went to pull the sleeves of my shirts down to expose more of my yellow skin. "Your skin…why is it?"

"Ah, don't worry about it. The color is from the chemicals in the munitions factory I worked at to make ends meet. It'll be gone after a few scrubbings."

My poor provincial mother, who had never been tempted by what lay beyond the horizon, looked at me questioningly. "Munitions factory?" she inquired.

"To make arms _Maman_, you know weapons." My mother gasped. I chuckled, "It's the equivalent of farming in city. The government has been asking for more recently and with all the supplies coming in from Africa and Asia we can make more of it at a lower cost. They just needed more labor to man the machines and there I was." My mother didn't seem to share my enthusiasm about France's economy. "_Maman_, it's fine. I'm fine."

In a stern note she said, "If you put yourself in harms way like that again, I'll…You could've lost an arm or a leg. Don't ever do something like that again."

I felt like a child being told off for conspiring to steal molasses, "But I'm absolutely fine! Better even!"

She looked at me skeptically for a moment and finally nodded in acceptance, "Your bath is ready."

I kissed her on the cheek, "Good. Then I can give you a proper hug without worrying about getting your Sunday best dirty."

Before going to the bathroom, I made a short stop to get some clothes from the chest in my bedroom. A crispy navy shirt and starched pants, ah how I'd missed home. In the bathroom, there waited a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water, just for me. I undressed myself and quickly looked myself over in the small mirror hanging from a nail.

The only things that had changed since the last time I looked at myself in the mirror, was my skin which was a little yellow from my job and the little souvenir a young lady decided to give me on my neck in exchange for a few francs. Of course that's not all she gave me for a few francs but the little red mark is all that's left of that night. I looked lower down at my left leg. Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about being scraped by a rather sharp scrap of metal on the lorry that I rid home. After my long, warm bath, I tied the area up with a bandage so as to not get my pants bloody.

I was clipping my suspenders on and going towards the kitchen when I noticed my mother talking to someone at the door. On hearing my footsteps, she turned around to reveal our little visitor.

"Hello, again Bella," I said. She ran up to me and squeezed my wounded leg as a show of affection.

"Ow ah! Ah, Bella not there," I said, trying my best not to start screaming from the pain. Bella drew back, confused. I quickly picked her up and hugged her.

"Good, you smell nice now," she said.

"So you wouldn't marry me if I smelled?" I asked.

"Edward!" my mother laughed, "Don't encourage the girl. That's all she has talked about for the past few months."

Bella got off my lap and climbed onto a chair at the kitchen table. My mother gave placed a pitcher of lemonade and a mugs in front of us.

"Edward," the brown eyed imp said, "will you come to the _fête_ tomorrow?"

"What _fête_?" I said raising an eyebrow.

"_Le fête du printemps_," she said, wagging her legs excitedly.

"Ah!" I sighed, "Already? I don't know if I can Bella. I'm so tired."

"Oh come on, Edward," my mother giggled as she sat down with us, "don't break the poor girl's heart. Plus," she leaned in to whisper, "you get a chance to see Tanya again."

Bella made the most comical grimace at the sound of Tanya's name.

"_Maman_ please!" I begged.

She continued laughing while Bella looked at me expectantly.

"Bella, I'll think about it. I'm exhausted from my journey. I need to take some rest but I promise I'll try."

"And you'll dance with me?"

I smirked, "Yes, I'll dance with you."

The little girl's face lit up. She jumped off her seat and hugged me again. "Okay, you go sleep now so that you can come tomorrow." She pulled my head to her level, pecked me on the cheek and hopped away saying goodbye to my mother.

"You're going to break that little girl's heart you know," my mother said all knowingly.

"She's five years old," I chuckled, "she'll forgive and forget in the blink of an eye."

My mother's countenance suddenly became pensive, "Edward, about Tanya…"

"I don't want to hear it mother. I'm marrying Tanya. We decided this a long time ago. Opportunities like this don't come along very often, _Maman_."

"Marriage should not be a proposition of some sort. It's a binding of two souls."

"_Maman_, the world is changing. Rumors of war are spreading like wild fire. We may lose our farm, everything that you've worked so hard for. Do you have any idea what wonders the right connections can do?"

"I don't care about the farm! All I want is for my son to be happy and being trapped in a loveless marriage is not my idea of happiness."

"I can always learn to love, _Maman_. I can learn to do so much."

My mother wasn't convinced. She let out a sad sigh and reached out to caress my face.

"You're burning up child," she said placing a palm on my forehead, "You should go lie down. I'll bring lunch up when it's ready."

I took her worn out hands in mine and kissed them before stumbling up to my bedroom and falling onto my plump bed with clean sheets. I was out cold within a second.

* * *

**A/N: So what do you think is going to happen next? Do we like mama's boy Edward? Leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The story however, belongs to me.**

* * *

**EPOV**

_A blistering summer's day._

_There was something unusual about the weather today. As I was walking through the fields, devoid of its usual furry inhabitants, I found it difficult to breath. Usually I can run a good seven kilometers before my legs begin to tremble and my lungs start showing signs of exhaustion but not today. Just taking a few steps seemed a labor of great pain. To top it all off, there was the strong and lingering smell of Maman's baking in the air. I looked behind me. Our house was a mere speck on the horizon. How was the smell still reaching me?_

_I reached the slightly raised land at the end of our farm land and found him the way I usually did. He was sitting on the ground and smoking his pipe whilst looking out into the distance. His hair was grayer than I remembered it. Even his beard had a few white specks in it. _

_I sat down beside him and stretched out my legs in front of me. He acknowledged my presence and then went back to smoking his pipe and looking into oblivion. I looked with him but began to fidget after a while. It was unbearably hot and my eyes were beginning to droop from exhaustion and lack of air. The smell of gateaux had become stronger and making me feel nauseous._

_I finally broke the silence, "I learned to use a rifle you know." A puff of smoke escaped his mouth as he grinned. He was probably thinking how Maman would react if she found out that her petit chou can fire a gun. "Don't worry," I smirked back, "I won't tell her. Leaving her was bad enough." He closed his eyes in approval and smiled again. _

_There was something else I needed to ask him, "Did you love her Papa?" What a silly question. Of course he did. Why would I ever question that? His expression mirrored my own. "It's just that," I tried to explain. I needed to ask him if marrying Tanya was really the right thing to do. I needed him to tell me that I would be happy with her, that I would be happy like him and Maman._

_But I never could ask. My chain of though was interrupted by a chill running through my head. The heat, the strong smell and the desperate need for air overwhelmed me and before I knew it, the rugged and serene face of Papa had been replaced by the distraught and worried countenance of my mother._

I could feel her unusually cold hands holding my head on the edge of the bed. Ah yes, I was in my room. Looking out the closed windows of my room I saw signs of the sun coming up. What was she doing up so early? She took a mug of ice cold water and poured it over my head.

"Mama, what…what are you…what are you doing?" I said, speaking like a drunk man.

"Ssh," she cooed, trying to fight away the tears of anxiety from her eyes, "you were burning up."

"I was talking to Papa."

"Really?" she asked, continuing to drench my head in freezing water.

I could only manage a hushed, "Mmmhmm," before going out cold again.

I woke up again some time after noon. The windows were now open and I the feeling of suffocation I'd felt before was gone. The smell of baked goods still lingered in the air and my body felt like it was burning from the inside. I frantically kicked my blanket off me and looked down to see that I was still in my day clothes from yesterday. There was a small red stain on my pants. I raised the material to reveal the bloody bandage. Why hadn't the bleeding stopped yet?

I stumbled downstairs, checking on the way to see if the coast was clear, to the bathroom and removed my pants. The bandage was completely soaked in blood. I removed it, trying not to make too great a mess. I padded it with all rag cloth I could find in the medicine box and then firmly tied a clean bandage around it. Happy with my accomplishment, I quickly washed the stain off my pants so as not to invite further questions from my mother.

Maman was busy organizing all the gateaux she'd made for the fête when I joined her in the kitchen. She looked down at my pants and then up at me. "What happened to your pants?"

"I spilled water on it," I said sheepishly, "People with fever don't have the best balance I suppose. Would you like me to help?"

"No, no," she said, "I'm just clearing up so that I can serve lunch. Why don't you go out and get some fresh air? It might help with the fever."

I nodded and made my way to the kitchen door. As I was about to close the door I heard her call out, "Don't go too far Edward!"

"I won't," I answered.

I walked about half a kilometer into our ground, taking the same route I had in my dream. I looked back to check if my mother was watching. When I was sure she wasn't, I dropped onto my knees and began digging a hole in the ground to bury the bloody bandages. Once I was done, I looked around and the green field stretched out in front of me. The same fields that have been my home. The same fields that have haunted me again and again in my dreams ever since my father passed away.

I lazily walked back to the house and waited on a stool right outside the kitchen door until my mother called me in for lunch. She wouldn't take her eyes off me the entire duration of our meal.

"I'm fine Ma," I shrugged.

"You're never leaving the house again," she said cutting her veal into tiny portions.

"Maman, I'm a twenty-three year old man. I'll have to sometime or the other. Do you really want your grandchildren to think their father's a loner of some sort?"

"I don't care!" she said slamming her cutlery onto the table. Her entire form began to tremble and she began to sob furiously, "I don't care! I hate it when you become like this."

"But it's just a fever."

"It doesn't matter. I feel worthless. I feel like I didn't do my job as a mother properly when you're like this. Your father would be writhing in his grave if he saw what a horrible job I was doing."

I rushed out of my chair and put my arms around her in an attempt to calm her down, "Don't you dare say anything like that ever again." She continued crying. "You are the best mother a boy can have. Everyone gets sick. They get sick and then they become better." I kissed her on the cheek, "This isn't your fault."

I let her cry it out. She was eventually able to finish her lunch. I didn't have that much of an appetite. Regular food wasn't agreeing with me at the moment so I simply shuffle the contents of my plate from one side to the other. After lunch, Maman resumed baking and I went to my room for a short nap.

Short does not appropriately describe the nap I had. I had barely drifted into a fitful state of rest when my throat became impossibly dry. I got out of bed and rushed to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Maman had finished her last _gateau_ and was about to get cleaned up for the _fête_. She looked at me, sitting at the table with my head propped up with one hand.

"Maybe, I should just tell someone to take it to the _fête_ for me," she said, deep in thought.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said waving off her concern, "You've worked too hard. You deserve to enjoy everyone's compliments for your _gateaux_."

"Not when you're like this."

"Then I'll go with you."

She opened her mouth to protest but I stopped her, "I feel better already. I really do. And I doubt you'll be able to carry all these by yourself." She still wasn't convinced. I sighed, "Maman, I promised a little girl I'd be there to dance with her. I'm going whether you let me help you carry your gateaux or not."

Maman rolled her eyes. I simply winked at her.

And so that evening, I escorted my mother to the village fête with about a dozen platters of _gateaux_ in my arms. I was bombarded by questions regarding my arrival, my journey to and from Paris, the people I met and so on and so forth. I actually would have enjoyed the attention had it not been for the ridiculous burning sensation beneath my skin.

One of the villagers had given me a wooden crate to stand on so that I could be heard clearly by the flock of people surrounding me. I was in the middle of a funny story regarding a fruit vendor with whom I'd shared a room for a week, when I saw the tiny Bella push her way through the throng of grown men and women. She looked at me expectantly and began tugging on my pants.

"Edward!" she persisted.

"Yes, Bella, a promise is a promise," I chuckled. I turned to my audience, "Ladies and gentleman. I'm sorry but I've promised this little lady that I would dance with her."

Bella pulled me to the dance floor and held on to both of my hands.

"Hmm," I said looking down at her and trying to figure out how to dance with a five year old, "How do we make this work?"

Bella looked down at her feet, trying to find a solution as well but looked up at me when she gave up.

"I know," I said, "why don't you put your feet up on mine." She did so and I began take one step to the right and then one step to the left. She began giggling in delight.

We danced to one song and were in the middle of our second dance when we were very rudely interrupted by a shrill voice, "Edward, there you are!"

Letting out a heavy sigh, I lifted Bella up from my feet, placed her on the ground and turned around to meet my fiancée.

Tanya was her usual pretentious self. Her head was covered in some kind of obnoxious feathery hat and she was clad in a heavily embroidered evening gown that must have cost her father a fortune. She flung her arms around me and began smothering me with kisses. I could see Bella pouting from the corner of my eye.

Once Tanya was done embarrassing me with her very public display of affection she looked at me and exclaimed, "Edward, let's not just stand here staring at each other. Dance with me!"

I obliged by taking her waist and guided her across the dance floor. Tanya never tired from talking. In the few minutes we danced, she had told me about how her maid stole her broach while she wasn't looking, how her father had gotten her a new puppy, how the puppy had vomited on her fancy nightgown and God knows what else. Over the course of our very short courtship, I'd learned how to shut all her nonsense out. My escalating fever only helped me in doing so.

We must've danced at least three songs. I was exhausted again and was unable to think straight. I went wherever my feet carried and carelessly swung Tanya about the dance floor. In my state of delirium I sent Tanya flying into a pillar.

Noticing her absence from my arms I looked around but couldn't find her. Trying to follow the sound of her insulted and shocked voice, I did nothing but walk into a bunch of bystanders enjoying the show. I felt tender, warm arms wrapping themselves around me. Instinctively I leaned into the owner of those familiar arms, my mother.

She took me back home and tucked me into bed. She didn't sleep a wink that night. I felt her washing my head with cold water every now and then and wiped my entire body with a damp cloth once or twice.

I could feel the sun on my face the next day but I didn't have the strength to get out of bed. Maman, had called the physician to have a look at me. He prescribed a number of antibiotics for the common flu.

I felt the warmth of the sun come and go, day after day but I never got out of bed. The antibiotics didn't work and my mother was left completely distraught and rendered helpless. Another visit from the physician offered no help to my health or to her worried heart.

I'd often hear her softly sob at my side while she thought I was asleep. I'd curse myself for making her feel like this and promised the Almighty that I would punish myself once I was able to get out of this damn bed.

I saw my father more often now. I'd apologize profusely for putting my mother through so much pain and asked him what was happening to me but he never answered me. Was he disappointed in me? Why wasn't he answering me? Why?

My condition worsened with the passing of each day and nobody could figure out why. One night, I was woken up my mother who was shedding silent tears.

"Maman?" I asked in a daze.

"I'm so sorry," she said kissing my forehead.

I didn't have the energy to ask what she was talking about. With great difficulty, she lifted me off the bed and took me downstairs. Our wagon was ready at the door. Were we going somewhere? A hospital perhaps? I got onto the wagon and fell asleep thinking that it would be a long journey to the nearest town with a proper hospital.

But the journey wasn't very long and it definitely wasn't to a hospital. When I woke up, it was still dark. I could here owls calling to each other and the soft rustle of evergreen trees. We were in the forest bordering the province.

"Can you hear me?" my mother desperately called out into the distance, "Please! Please, help him!"

Who was she talking to? Why were we in the forest in the dead of night? Was this another one of my hallucinations?

It was then that I heard a silky smooth, almost comforting voice, "What seems to be the problem?"

I looked around to find the source of this most alluring voice. My mother replied, "It's – it's my son sir. He's ill and the physicians don't know what's wrong."

"He's bleeding," the voice said.

Where was he? How did he know that I was bleeding? I tried to prop myself up on my arms but failed miserably.

"I-I…" my mother said, "Can it be fixed?"

"It's too late now my dear."

"No!" my mother cried, "No no no no no no! Please sir! You have to help him!"

"Good woman," the voice said quietly, "do you realize what you're asking of me? You will never see him again."

"He's just a child," my mother begged, "He has hopes and dreams…Please sir! I beg you!"

There was a drawn out silence and I was about to fall back asleep again.

"Fine," the voice said, "Fine. But you need to leave this instant."

My mother looked back at me. She placed wet kisses all over my faces and apologized again and again.

"That's enough dear," said the man. I felt strong, icy cold arms lift me up. One minute I was in the forest, with my mother and a complete stranger and the next I was flying. Flying through the forest in the arms of this stranger, leaving my mothers wails far behind.

The next thing I knew I was lying on a stone table in a cave of some sort. I looked up to see a pair of amber eyes looking down at me. Who was this person? What can he do that a physician can't?

He placed a hand over my eyes, "Close your eyes child. Close them and think of your mother."

I did as he asked. I thought of her teaching me the alphabets as a child. I thought of her scolding me after I'd played in the mud with the pigs. I thought of watching her and Papa dance the night away at the_ fête_ as a child. I thought about how I was going to punish myself for having caused her so much pain.

In the midst of my musings I felt something, an animal maybe, breathe heavily in my face. I kept my eyes closed, thinking that it was just another hallucination. A growl escaped whatever it was that was breathing onto my face. Before fear could take over my entire being I was paralyzed by the unbearable pain of something sharp being pressed into the crook of my neck and the burning sensation that succeeded it.

I had promised Papa that I'd atone for all the pain I had put Maman through.

At that moment, little did I know that I'd have eternity to do so.

* * *

**A/N: Aww poor Edward! We're going to have a Bella POV next. I'd love to hear your thoughts so REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I however own this particular story.**

**A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews! I've also realized that I write in a French accent when I write this story...if that makes any sense.**

* * *

**BPOV**

**Spring 1928**

My heart was pumping blood to my head so hard that I could almost hear the strain my veins were under.

_Close it you silly girl. Things like these are not meant to be seen._

I couldn't. I simply stared at the open book in front of me. Never in my life had I seen something so putrid, so revolting, so perfectly sinful yet so absolutely intriguing. They were naked; this man and this woman. They were naked and tangled together as though they were one.

"Isabella!" I heard my mistress call from upstairs. Snapping back to reality, I slammed the book entitled, "Kamasutra" and replaced it back on the shelf where I had found it. I took a few steps back to check if I'd left any traces of my ill behavior. Assured that everything was in its place I tucked the dusting rags in my skirt's pockets and rushed out of the library.

Running down the ground floor corridor, I tried fixing my hair. It had become an unruly mess of uncombed curls whilst I was working. I was about to dart up the stairs to my mistress's room when I heard a voice that I really didn't have the patience to hear more of at the moment.

"Bella!" Jacob called.

"Not now," I said without even looking at him, "I'm busy Jacob." I continued up the stairs.

"That's fine. I'll be here for some time anyway."

I discreetly huffed and stomped the rest of the way to Madame Tanya's room.

"Come in!" she replied in answer to my knock. She was seated at her dresser taking the overnight pins out of short hair. The breakfast tray I'd brought her half an hour ago was empty except for the china and silverware and laying on her unmade bed. "Darling," she started looking at my reflection in the mirror, "you take far too long. I've been calling for over an hour."

_You haven't even been awake for an hour! _

"I'm sorry Madame. It won't happen again."

She looked at my distraught figure in the mirror and smirked, "You were reading again weren't you?"

_Technically, no. I was just looking at some pictures that will most assuredly send me to the depths of hell when I die._

Madame sighed at my prolonged silence, "Isabella, Isabella, Isabella…have you any idea how many girls would kiss my feet for your job?"

_They'd only want to kiss your feet because I scrub them every night. _

I nodded dumbly.

"I need that dress that came in last week. Hurry up now. I'm late," she said in her high pitched voice, waving me off. I went to her armoire and took out the plastic covered dress that was hanging in one corner. Unzipping the cover, I took out the shapeless, sleeveless, light blue dress and placed it on the bed. I went back to the armoire and searched for a matching pair of shoes.

"Don't forget my hat and coat now," she said as she applied her make-up. I selected a pair of shoes and placed it next to the bed. Closing the armoire containing Madame Tanya's clothes, I went and opened the armoire that held all her coats, hats and other accessories. I took out a light brown leather wrap-coat and a beige clotch hat, shut the armoire and waited held them while she took her good time getting dressed. She snatched the coat from my hands left her room.

I followed her.

"Has the car arrived yet?" she asked.

I looked out the window to see the chauffeur leaning against the car and whistling.

"Yes, Madame," I said.

She headed down the stairs, swaying her hips from side to side. Her heels went _clop clop clop_ as she walked over the hard wood floors.

On entering the living room on the way to front door, we stopped at the sight of Jacob gazing out the window.

"Ah Jacob!" my mistress exclaimed. I rolled my eyes at her enthusiasm. "I had forgotten that I'd sent for you but I must go. Isabella will show you the shoes that need mending." She patted his chest and then went out the front door.

The chauffeur, Sam, straightened up when he saw her approaching and opened the backseat door for her. She made herself comfortable in the car and looked at me, "Finish up your chores. Give Jacob the shoes that ripped. I'll be late. I expect you to be here when I arrive."

I nodded and sighed as I watched the car drive off, out of the estate. It would be another sleepless night. Madame Tanya always came back from her picnic cum dinner parties well past three in the morning. I wouldn't dare get even a wink of sleep beforehand though because there is a very good chance that I will not hear her arriving.

"I never understood why you never took a liking to her. You should learn a thing or two from her," Jacob snickered behind me.

I turned around glared at him.

"Of course not as lovely as you," he grinned, trying to brush his finger against my cheek.

I haughtily slapped his hand away from me, "Jacob, I have told you time and time again not to come near me."

"But we both know it's just an invitation for me to do exactly that."

I pushed him from my way and headed up the stairs to my mistress's room. I found the shoes that needed mending and stormed back into the living room where Jacob had taken a seat on one of the pristine one-seaters

"What do you think you're doing?" I bellowed, "Get off right now! Your grimy hands are going to dirty the silk!"

"Silk shmilk," he said fluffing the cushions and putting them behind his back, "You've been living here for some time. Are you saying that you've never sat on the sofas? That you've never tried on Madame Tanya's clothes?"

_No I hadn't. The worst thing I could have done would be sneaking into the library at night and reading._

"No, actually," I said, squaring my shoulders.

"Alors," Jacob said with a malicious glint in his eyes. He leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, "why don't we go up to your mistress's room and take a tumble in her bed?"

I stared at him wide eyed.

_Did he actually just say that? Did he believe that I would do something like that? And with him of all people?_

The images from the book flooded my mind. Without due warning I had images of Jacob and me naked and he was making me touch his unmentionables.

I was in such a traumatized daze that I hadn't even realized that Jacob had gotten up and was coming dangerously close to me.

He grasped my waist. A wild frenzy had come over him as he held my entire body still with his frighteningly strong arms and forced his lips onto mine. I slapped his face away and tried to keep it away but he was too strong.

"I've had enough of this Bella," he growled biting the nape of my neck, "No more games. I know you want me." He thrust his hip at my stomach to jab something very hard at my stomach.

_Was it a knife? Was he threatening to kill me if I didn't give in?_

I didn't want to die. Not like this. I bit his neck like I would a good steak. He screamed in agony and his grip on me loosened. Gathering all my strength, I forcefully pushed him back on to the sofa. He looked at me incredulously.

I picked up Madame Tanya's shoes which I had dropped in my struggle and threw them at him. I was on the brink of tears and speaking would give me away. Taking a deep breath to regain my composure I finally shouted, "Take those and get out! I don't want to see you here again!"

Without another word, I ran out of the living room, through the corridor to the library and locked myself in.

"I've talked to your father you know!" he called out after me, "I won't have to wait much longer."

I couldn't process what he'd said. I needed to get as far away as possible. Jacob would leave. Of that I was sure. Any more commotion would attract the unwanted attention of the rest of the servants in the households. I went over to the library window after some time and saw him strolling down the paved path out of the estate. It was as though he hadn't even attacked me mere moments ago.

I collapsed onto the floor and began sobbing. Jacob had made advances before but never had he come this far. I sobbed not from fear of his touch but from the fear of losing the upper hand. I liked making informed decisions in life and the physical bond that men and women shared was a mystery to me. The pictures in the book gave me a very vague idea of what this…this strange dance was. The text was in English so I didn't understand what was being said. Was the man attacking the woman? If he was why did she look so happy? Why did the image of Jacob and me naked in bed come to my mind in the first place?

_Am I a bad person? No! I can't go to hell! I can't!_

Wiping my tears away, I straightened up and walked out of the library with purpose. I found the cook in the kitchen and told her that I'd be gone for a few hours. Without paying much heed to her questioning stare, I made my way out of the Ceccaldi Country House. After walking at a brisk pace for about half an hour I had reached my destination.

The _eglise_ of _Les Fourchettes_.

Father Alberto just happened to be passing by the alter when he saw me entering. I had tried my best to calm my nerves but they still must have given away how distraught and nervous I was. He nodded, acknowledging my presence and immediately made his way to the confession booth. I entered the confessor's booth and knocked on the sliding door.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned," I panted as he slid the small window open.

"What's wrong dear child?" he queried in a calm and relaxing voice.

I didn't know how to start. "I looked at a book while I was supposed to be dusting today, Father."

"Well child, there's nothing wrong with reading. I'm sure Madame Ceccaldi won't mind if you slipped this one time."

_Oh dear! How do I continue this conversation? I'm such an imbecile for even coming in the first place!_

"Father, this book…it-it," I took a deep breath and just spat it out, "it has pictures that showed men and women without any clothes and they were…they were…"

Father Alberto was just then seized by a fit of loud, phlegmy coughs.

_I really am evil! I'm killing Father Alberto!_

"Father? Are you all right?"

"Yes – yes child," he cleared his throat, "It is understandable how you would…you would find these things to be sinful…you know, since you have not had much feminine guidance but Isabella, the physical bond shared by man and woman is considered one of the most sacred bonds in the world. It is a union that leads to life."

_So I wasn't going to hell?_

"How old are you child?"

"I just turned nineteen Father," I replied.

"Ah, you're at an age when it's normal to think about these things. Perhaps you should think about finding yourself a good husband. Together, you can start a new, very beautiful journey; that of marriage."

_So it's natural to think such dirty thoughts? Marriage is the only way to redeem myself?_

I had much to think about on my walk back to the Ceccaldi Mansion. I thanked Father Alberto for his help and was on my way. I was almost half way back when I realized that Madame Tanya would not be back till late and I had some time to go see my father. I turned around and headed towards the home of my childhood.

Papa was not the same man who used to give me piggy-back rides as a child. He was ailing with old age and as expected when I reached our house, I found him asleep in his chair, his energy spent from finishing basic morning chores. I was absolutely sure that he hadn't had breakfast. I touched his arm to alert him of my presence.

"Bella?" he said with a start.

"Papa, have you eaten?"

He ignored my question, "What are you doing here?"

"Relax," I said walking over to the cupboards in search of something edible, "Madame Tanya is out at one of her day long picnics. I'm free the entire day. Papa, how have you been surviving? There's nothing to eat here!"

I found an old loaf bread that hadn't been damaged by fungus yet, some cheese and went outside to the barn to get some milk. I put the food on the table in front of him and waited for him to start eating.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" he asked, preparing to split his bread in two to share.

"I've already eaten. Really Papa, I'm very upset with you. You should take better care of yourself."

"I'm an old man," he said, "it doesn't matter. You're the one who should be taking care of yourself. You're not getting enough sleep."

I looked down at my hands. I was hoping that he wouldn't notice the dark circles around my eyes. Madame Tanya was a very demanding woman. So demanding that I had to be alert all twenty-four hours a day, even when she was asleep.

"You don't have to work there you know."

"Papa, don't be ridiculous. Of course I have to. And I enjoy my work. I really do."

"I want you to be happy Bella. I can't show my face to your Maman knowing that you're somebody's servant."

"Ssh," I implored, "please don't talk like that. You're not going to Maman. Not for a very long time." The thought of losing my father was unbearable. I had lost my mother at birth and Papa was all I had.

"I'm just saying. I want you to be happy."

Saying anything would give way to my tears so I stayed quiet. Papa ate his food in silence. I was about to clear the table when he cleared his throat.

"Jacob Noir came to see me the other day."

_Oh no he didn't! What did he want this time?_

_What was it that he said when I stormed off earlier?_

"And? What did he want?" I could barely keep my annoyance in check.

He remained quiet.

"Papa?"

"He – Jacob – came here to ask for your hand."

_That's a strange request._

"Well, I'm sorry. I work for a living and I'm in need of both my hands. What's wrong with him?"

Papa hid his face in his hands, "_Ma petite choue, _please try to understand! Jacob came to ask for your hand in marriage."

I dropped the plate I'd been washing and stared at him. What was I supposed to say?

_Should I tell him that he attacked me today? But Father Alberto said it was natural. He said that I was of marriageable age and marriage was the only way to redeem myself. Why was this so difficult? _

Papa walked up to me and took my hand, "I've seen the way he looks at you. He worships the ground you walk on. You can be a queen."

"Please papa, he mends shoes for a living. I hardly think I'll be a queen. And I certainly don't need him to be happy."

"Fine then. It will make me happy if I see you married and settled before I…"

"Papa please! I – I don't know. I have to think about it."

I looked at face, the wrinkles a map of his life. He was still tired from the morning chores and was in dire need of rest.

"You need sleep Papa," I said taking him by the hand and leading him to his room, "I'll bake you some fresh bread and even slice it so that you actually eat."

He lay down, "You'll wake me up before you leave?"

"Of course I will."

We made small talk for a few minutes before he dosed off. I went to the kitchen to bake the bread I'd promised Papa. I usually enjoyed baking for him but not today. My mind was far too preoccupied with the day's events.

Jacob wanted to marry me. He made advances on me. I picture us together in the most intimate state…

_Was Father Alberto right? Was I ready for marriage?_

All the signs seemed to be saying that I was but something deep inside me was telling me otherwise. I tried to put a finger on what seemed off but couldn't. Before today, I'd never even thought about marriage. Unlike other girls in _Les Fourchettes_, I never gave much thought to men or having children. I was far too caught up in the worlds within the pages of books. When I'd tell my friends about the worlds I'd read of in novels they'd laugh at me. To them, the world beyond the boundary of _Les Fourchettes_ was irrelevant. Maybe it was. Maybe I'm just strange.

The only person I'd ever known to have ventured the outside world was now long gone; my best friend Edward. Oh how I missed him. It's strange, I barely even remember what he looked like but I remember his presence, his aura and how happy I felt whenever I would talk to him. Madame Elizabeth was devastated when he passed away. The warmth that was embodied by _Le Maison des Masens_ was lost and she now lived in squalor. As a child I'd heard rumors that she couldn't bear to see her son suffer so much and killed him herself. While I couldn't imagine her to be capable of such a thing, Edward's death was quite peculiar. He had come down with a grave fever and the town physician had no cure for it. A few weeks later, he was gone. There was no body. There was no funeral. He was just gone and Madame Elizabeth had shut herself out from the rest of the world ever since.

Along with the rumors of murdering her own son came the rumors of insanity. When someone's cow or pig died they blamed it on Madame Elizabeth. Of course most villagers just wanted to cover up their lack of care towards their animals by blaming the poor woman.

I spent hours of time with Madame Elizabeth while I was growing up and knew that she wouldn't hurt a fly. She would bake for me while I would read to her. She was the feminine figure I very much needed in my life. When I thought about it, she was practically a surrogate mother to me.

But I would be lying if I said the rumors about her mental stability were completely false. She would often keep a vigil by her back door, looking out into the, now barren, fields. Sometimes, she wouldn't sleep a wink for almost four or five days. When asked what she was waiting for she would smile and simply say, "He came here. He was here but he didn't stay long. He'll be back soon though."

The people of _Les Fourchettes_ were convinced of her madness after her ravings one afternoon. I must have been around six or seven years old. While doing his chores one morning, Father Alberto noticed a sea of something black in the otherwise green horizon. He, along with some other men, walked the distance to see what it was.

They were soldiers; German by the likes of their uniforms and they were dead. Most had been killed by very powerful blows while the death of one soldier couldn't be determined. His body had been robbed of all blood and there were no signs of injury besides a peculiarly shaped scar on his neck. Nobody could remember hearing anything the night before so we just assumed that the bodies had been dumped here for burying.

The men, as instructed by Father Alberto, dug up a huge grave to bury the soldiers. They may have been German but they deserved the basic respect of any human being. It was past night fall by the time the men had finished their sad business and came home.

The next day was a Sunday and we were all at the _eglise_. We were in the middle of the hymns when the doors flew in and Madame Elizabeth ran towards Father Alberto.

"A flaming cross! A flaming cross!" she raved, "Look outside to the horizon! There's a flaming cross!"

He all rushed outside to see. We looked at the spot where the dead bodies had been but could see nothing but the blue sky meet the green grass.

"No! It was there!" Madame Elizabeth persisted as everyone dismissed her. "No!" she cried.

Without warning she darted towards the spot wailing. Some say she was crying Edward's name.

Of course I remember very little of the incident for myself. I was only six…maybe seven.

I could smell Papa's bread. It was ready. I took a towel, wrapped my hand in it and took the loaf of bread out. I sliced it into pieces like I'd told Papa I would and covered with the towel so that it wasn't eaten up by flies.

I nudged my snoring Papa awake and said goodbye to him.

There was one more place I needed to go before I went back to the Ceccaldi Mansion. I had come and taken care of my father. Now it was time to pay a visit to the closest thing I had to a mother.

* * *

**A/N: Ok so Les Fourchettes (French for Forks :P ) is turning out to be quite an eerie place. Could the strange occurrences have something to do with our beloved Edward? I know Edward is very much missing but Bella's life before Edward will play a very important role in the life after Edward...such is life. If you're excited to know what's going on REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I however own this story.**

* * *

**BPOV**

"Madame Elizabeth?"

No answer.

I peeped through the window but couldn't see her so I went around to the back. The door to the stable was ajar.

Madame Elizabeth was feeding her horse, Nicole. The once plump and healthy woman was nothing more than skin and bone. A deep crease had taken residence on her forehead; a result of her incessant squinting due to her persistent headaches. As she bent down to place the feed in front of Nicole, it almost seemed that her rickety frame would break in two.

I walked to them and ran my fingers through Nicole's mane.

"Bella," Madame Elizabeth exclaimed, "I didn't hear you come."

"I hope I'm not intruding. You didn't answer when I knocked so I just came back here."

"My home is your home Bella. You can come and go as you wish."

She smiled her motherly smile and took me by the hand. We walked back to the house where we made ourselves some tea and sat down at the kitchen table. While I drank, she took my left hand and caressed it lovingly.

"You've been working too hard," she said.

"And you worry too much," I smiled.

"You always had the most beautiful hands you know. Long and slender, a musician's hands. Too beautiful to become rough from washing someone's clothes all day."

I sighed and looked down at the hand she was holding. I couldn't agree with what she had to say about my hands or my life. The way I saw it, there wasn't anything more I could've done but become a maid. I had three square meals a day and I lived in a warm, comfortable house. Many didn't have such a luxury after the war. I actually considered myself lucky.

She traced the lines on my palm and smiled at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Love"

"Pardon?"

"See this line?" she said tracing a line at the top of my palm, "It signifies love. And yours is going to be a long lasting love. Just look how long this line is."

I blushed and looked away.

"You will also have a long life," she said in a shaky voice.

I took my hand out of her grasp and wrapped my arms around her.

_If I could I would change places with him_, I wanted to say, _I'm sure he'd make more of his life than I am right now. _

But I stayed quiet and let her sob on my shoulder. Saying that would have upset her even more.

She collected herself after a while and began sipping her tea.

"So tell me," she said, "what news of the outside world."

I smiled and shrugged.

"How is your Monsieur Swan?"

"Papa? He's…well he's his usual self. He doesn't take care of himself at all. I really wish I could have stayed with him, you know, give him some company."

She nodded.

I looked at her for a moment and then at my mug. "Jacob Noir has asked me to marry him."

"Really?" she asked, wide eyed.

"Well, he didn't ask me but he asked Papa and Papa wants me to."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. I mean I'm of the right age. I just don't understand…so much."

"Bella, I've seen the way Jacob looks at you. To him you are a prize to be won…"

"Me?" I said gaping at her, "Why me?"

She smiled and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear so that she could see my face.

"Bella, do ever look at yourself in the mirror?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"You are beautiful. When Jacob looks at you he sees the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on and he wants it all to himself. That's just the type of man he has become."

I blushed as the image of Jacob touching me flooded my mind.

_He couldn't wait. He wanted me all for himself._

"But the question is," she continued, bringing me out of my recollection, "do you want to be his possession or his wife?"

"What's the difference?"

Madame Elizabeth let out a cynical laugh and explained, "Love. Do you want to be a trophy for the rest of your life or do you want to be loved and cherished?"

I didn't really see the difference between the two. I didn't really understand what love was. Don't all marriages have love?

"You have to think about this Bella. You really must! Do you or do you not love Jacob?"

I opened my mouth to answer but she raised her hand to stop me.

"No. Don't answer me. Just think about it. Before Edward left us he was about to marry your mistress for the sake of convenience. I didn't approve of it. I wanted him to fall in love with a girl who would make him happy. You're like a child to me Bella. I want the same for you too."

I remained silent after that.

_How was I supposed to know? Would lightening strike like they say in the books?_

This day was getting stranger and stranger. Asking questions to clarify my doubts only led to more doubt and more questions.

I took our empty mugs and took them to the wash basin to wash. I'd finished and hung them on a hook over the basin when a loud thump made me turn around. I was met with the most horrific image.

Madame Masen was lying on the floor convulsing as though her body had been claimed by the devil himself. I rushed to her side and tried to bring her back to normal to no avail.

"Madame Elizabeth!" I cried, "Look at me! Please"

My eyes were brimming with tears from fear and worry. I didn't have the faintest clue as to what was happening to her. Why did I not know _anything_?

I cradled her in my arms and kept calling to her, hoping that it would somehow help battling her demons. Like a child would to its mother, she snuggled into my body while the convulsions took their course. I didn't move an inch the entire time. I held her to me as wave after wave of pain and shock plagued her body.

It was well past sundown when her body had exhausted itself and she had fallen into a fitful slumber. I knew I couldn't stay for much longer. Madame Tanya was as unpredictable as she was unsympathetic towards those that worked for her. She may return home earlier than I would have expected.

I had prepared Madame Elizabeth her supper and left it on her bedside table with a note explaining why I had to leave her in her fragile state when I heard something, a rodent perhaps, moving upstairs. On inspecting what used to be Edward's room upstairs, I found nothing. Madame Elizabeth had made it a point to keep Edward's room as it was, even though he left us almost fourteen years ago. I took this time I had to myself to look around my once best friend's room. I looked at his small reading desk thinking that at some point he must have written poetry or an entry in his journal at this very desk. There was no dust on the table. Madame Elizabeth had done a very good job keeping her son's room prepared, in case, as she believed, he would return someday.

I closed the window looking over the barren fields. I knew that a window wouldn't stop burglars from entering the house but I felt so useless, I had to do something.

And then I heard it again. The noise, I mean. But it wasn't upstairs, it was downstairs. Perhaps Madame Elizabeth and regained consciousness.

I rushed down the stairs only to find her on the arm chair I'd left her in, fast asleep. I looked around the room to look for any living thing besides myself and Madame Elizabeth but there was nothing. I sighed and was forced to admit to myself that I was exhausted, not just from the eventful day today but from everything. Everything that my life had given me.

Having checked on Madame Elizabeth one more time, I hurried back to the Ceccaldi Mansion to await my mistress.

In the days that followed, I found it almost impossible to tear myself away from my chores at the mansion. Madame Tanya, as per usual, informed me, at the last minute, that she would be entertaining a party of eight from Lyon at the mansion for five days. The guests were just as demanding as their host. They all wanted their breakfast in bed, their day's attire laid out on the bed for them and their delicates hand washed. My only way of knowing anything of the outside world was asking Marcus, the boy you delivered our bread from the patisserie. I would ask him to go have a look at how Madame Elizabeth was in exchange for a jam tart or a sausage. According to his reports, she occasionally made an appearance in town for supplies and such but for the most part, stayed inside. She looked ill and haggard and the townsfolk steered clear of her in case they got, "contaminated".

Madame Tanya had been entertaining her guests for a good three days when I next ran into Jacob. He had come to return my mistress' repaired shoes. I was in the midst of distributing fresh laundry to the guests' rooms when I overheard my mistress speaking animatedly to her guests in the living room:

"Ah Cecile, didn't that strap on your jade heels snap when we went for that walk the other day? Monsieur Noir here, he's an excellent repairs-man. Why, just look at these sandals! They're almost as good as new!"

I dared a peek at the gathering through the extravagant French doors. Madame had her right arm over Jacob. If I put the opposing feelings of attraction and repulsion I felt for him aside and simply looked at him, I would by no means call him unattractive. He was a tall, heavy set man, a physique earned from the physical nature of his job. His russet skin stood out against the pallor of Madame Tanya's skin. It made him seem healthier, more vibrant than her and the rest of us. I would have even considered him handsome were it not for the sly grin that was plastered across his face.

By chance, he looked askance and saw me looking. I quickly averted my gaze and went on with my business.

My last laundry stop was on the third floor where I deposited a pair of dress pants and several dress shirts into the armoire. The one thing I absolutely loved about this particular room was the view. You could see the entire estate and beyond. When I didn't feel like reading, I'd often sneak up hear to just stare into the horizon. I felt a sense of peace ever time I looked, if not just for a minute or two, at the great expanse of mowed grass bordered with the most exotic flowers and plants imaginable.

Having worked non-stop, serving my mistress and her guests for the past three days and preparing for their entertainment a good week in advance, I thought that I could reward myself with a look outside and just relieve myself from all the worries of work, marriage and illness.

I opened the window and leaned onto the windowsill, breathing in the fresh spring air. I reveled in the sight and smell of the familiar lawn touched by the first few kisses of spring.

But something was wrong.

A group of what seemed to be shabbily dressed men were hovering around the periphery of the grounds. They made no signs of leaving.

I closed the window and straightened up the room before continuing my chores downstairs. I dusted off the shelves in the library with a tattered rag, dusted the crystal decoration pieces along with the furniture in the foyer and fluffed swept the foyer floor. When I went to throw the dust I had collected into the grounds I looked towards the fence again only to see the same men still standing at the very same spot. I stared at them for some time before beginning to walk towards them and ask them to leave.

"Bella?" I heard Jacob call after me.

I turned around to see him leaning against a stone lion with a half burnt cigarette in his hand.

"Where are you off to in such a rush, Bella?" he asked between puffs.

"Do you see those men?" I asked pointing in their directions, "Do you seem them there? They've been standing there watching the house for a good hour."

He tossed his cigarette onto the ground and used the tip of his foot to put it out. Coming closer to me, he looked towards the periphery, "And what exactly were you going to do to them?"

"I was going to ask them to leave."

Jacob looked down at me and laughed, "Darling, have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror."

I raised my eyebrow in question. He gave me a toothy grin and bent down to kiss me on the cheek. I didn't pull away but it felt wrong and I had the urge to run to my wash basin and scrub my face with industrial strength soap when he finally pulled away.

"I'll go see what I can do," he said to me with a wink. He took a few steps backwards, trying to read my face, before turning around to meet the strange men. From where I was standing Jacob seemed to speak to them with ease and without any sign of hesitation pointed them in the direction out of town. The men didn't seem pleased but left without making much of a scene.

Jacob headed back towards me triumphant. "Just some wondering low lives," he boasted, "No need to worry about them. I sent them away."

I nodded and turned to leave. Jacob's behavior the other day was inexcusable but he had his moments. I had no desire to condemn or commend him.

"Where do you think you're going," he said grabbing my wrist, "Don't I at least get a thank you?"

_There he is again, foul old Jacob._

"Jacob, please," I said trying to get my wrist out of his Herculean grip, "there are guests in the house. This is no time for a scene."

"Fine," he said, letting of my wrist, "I take it you went to see your father the other day."

I looked at him, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

"I expect an answer you know," he said, squaring his shoulders and trying to make me aware of the power he possessed. Power over what I'm still not sure though…

"I don't know. I have too much on my mind right now to think about such trivial things Jacob."

He took a step closer to me, perhaps too close. "Bella," he said with a look that sent chills through my spine, "I hope that you don't really consider a marriage to me 'trivial'."

"And what is it that you'll do if I do?"

"Oh darling," he moaned, passing one of his rough fingers over the side of my face, "if you only knew. I'll do things that are much more than trivial."

I flinched away from his touch and was about to go back into the house when I remembered something.

"Jacob? Do you know anything of Madame Elizabeth? Have you heard anything at all?"

"I never understood why you were attached to that looney of a waif you know."

"There's a lot you don't understand Jacob. Now tell me! Do you know anything?"

"She's been the talk of the town actually," he said, leaning on the stone lion again, "She keeps everyone awake at night. Won't keep her trap shut. A bunch of women in town got so fed up that they barged into that shack of hers. You know what they found? She was shaking all over. They say she's been possessed by Satan. I guess that's what you get for killing your own son."

"She didn't kill Edward!" I shouted trying to prevent myself from lunging myself at him. Without another word I slammed the door in his face. I didn't want to see his face ever again!

But God has his own plans I suppose. I had to see Jacob the very next day under the most upsetting circumstances.

I was in the middle of preparing breakfast in bed for my mistress and her guests when the bread boy came running through the back yard and burst through the kitchen.

"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! You must come! You must come now!" he shrieked, trying to catch his breath.

"Marcus! Ssh!" I said holding his chin up so that I could look at his face, "_Qu'est-ce qu'il y'a?_"

"It is Madame Elizabeth," he gasped, "They found her on the stairs. She wasn't breathing."

My heart stopped as the implications of what he was saying sunk in.

"Marcus? Is she…she is alright yes?"

Marcus looked at me for a long minute before bursting into a spring of tears. I collapsed onto my knees and looked into space.

_She's gone. Just like that. I didn't even get to say goodbye._

I heard my mistress' bell ring over and over again but it was just a sound, a completely meaningless sound. I must've stayed in my trance for hours, I don't know. It just seemed like an eternity. I had to face my reality when I felt Marcus shaking me.

"Bella!" he cried, "You need to be there. Nobody wants to touch her."

I looked up at the heavens with my teary eyes. Nobody was even willing to give her the last right she deserved.

Picking myself up, I stumbled towards the kitchen door and left the mansion without informing anyone of my whereabouts. I had to rely on the boy to lead me to town because I could not focus on the road ahead of me, not knowing that Madame Elizabeth had died all alone.

Marcus had to push be through a crowd of idle onlookers who had gathered around the Masen house. Jacob was one of them. He looked away when I managed to make eye contact with him.

In Madame Elizabeth's room, I found Papa sitting on the rocking chair beside Madame Elizabeth's bed. She lay there, completely still. Her cheeks seemed fuller and for the time in years, she looked as though she was at peace.

I hadn't realized I had been staring at her until Papa wrapped his arms around me. He rubbed my shoulders in comfort and said, "Can you get her dressed? The funeral's in the afternoon." As I nodded he kissed my temple and left me alone with the body.

I silently went to the chest where I knew she kept her clothes. It didn't take long to get her ready. I wiped her body clean with a damp cloth and then dressed her in her Sunday best.

After that it was just a matter of waiting. Papa had to pay two men to carry her remains to the _eglise_. He and I were the only ones who attended her funeral. Young Marcus wanted to come but his parents thought it would be dangerous. I sat by her grave long after the ceremony was over and the sexton had finished his job. I just sat there, unwilling to move. Papa had grown tired so he had left but I still wouldn't move.

My skin began to burn in the blazing afternoon sun but I didn't care. I just stared at the simple wooden cross that represented where Madame Elizabeth had been laid to rest. I was overcome with grief and wanted to mourn properly. If I went back to the mansion I wouldn't be able to and I knew it would eat me whole from the inside.

I sat on the grass and looked out into the seemingly endless expanse of green fields, into the horizon. That's when I saw something.

No, the afternoon light was just playing tricks on me. I couldn't possibly have been seeing what I was.

It was cross, a flaming cross; just like Madame Elizabeth had said she had seen years ago. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was still there.

I didn't have the energy to run the distance to where it was standing so I decided to take Nicole from Madame Elizabeth's stable. As she galloped further and further, with me on her back, the cross only seemed to get further and further until I reached the border of Les Fourchettes to find that there was nothing there. I looked further beyond the border but nothing.

I couldn't accept that I had just been seeing things. I checked and rechecked several times. It was there. It was definitely there. Someone must have moved it. It should be around here somewhere.

I navigated Nicole's reigns so that she headed towards the forest. I thought that it would be the perfect place for someone to hide.

Now that I look back on that day, I sometimes wonder if I actually would have wandered into the forest if I were in my right state of mind. If I was thinking straight, I would have been too afraid to come so far away from what was familiar, let alone have the audacity to go into the forest unprotected. But I was sick of all the questions in my life and for once just wanted an answer. It could have been the silliest explanation of all but I needed it. I needed it for my sanity.

I didn't find any answers in the forest. I suppose that was expected. There was no fire and there was no cross; just the occasional rustle of the trees and the pitter patter of rabbits and rodents calling it a night.

It was almost dark when I remembered that I had left the mansion without informing my mistress. I sighed and took one last look around in the dark before turning Nicole around.

The owls were beginning to sing their night's song. The crickets had begun their dance from the sound of it and the birds were heading back to their nests.

But all sound ceased when a loud gunshot pierced the night air.

Nicole howled in pain and collapsed onto her side while I was still on top of her. I shrieked as her weight crushed my right leg and prevented me from moving. I felt around and rubbed her neck, "Nicole! Nicole, ma cherie! Please get up."

Her breathing grew hoarse and she neighed again and again, pleading me to help her. Tears streamed down my face as I lay there, completely helpless. Slowly, very slowly, her breathing became fainter and fainter until it finally stopped all together.

"Nicole please!" I cried out into the air, "No, please, no no no no!"

I heard heavy footsteps approaching. They grew louder and louder.

"Please," I called out, "Please help!"

I went on begging until I saw who the footsteps belonged to. I couldn't recognize their faces but from what they were wearing I knew immediately that these were the same men that had been watching the mansion the day before.

"You idiot," one bellowed to the other, "I told you not to shoot. What's the use of having a half dead girl?"

"But the horse!" the other one cried.

"What, you can't handle a horse? You're a bloody embarrassment you know that?"

A third man joined the conversation, "Boys, I don't think any of us want a trampled tramp. I don't want her bleeding all over me. Hugo, finish her off. I've had enough of this nonsense."

"But they'll realize she's missing. We won't be able to finish the job!"

"That's your fault! Now finish her off!"

He walked off back into the depths of the forest. The man being scolded looked at his companion in question before raising his gun and pointing it at me.

I closed my eyes.

_This is it. I'm going to die. I'm going to die like this…_

I waited for the shot to be fired, the hot metal to hit my skull. I waited to see the light everyone spoke of.

But it never came. I was forced to open my eyes when I heard an indistinct growl followed by the sound of bodies struggling and the frightened screams of the men who shot Nicole. It was too dark and my vision had become too blurry to see what was attacking them.

_I'll die in the claws of an animal then but I'll die none the less._

My awareness of my surroundings was failing me as pain and exhaustion overwhelmed my body. I heard the calls and shouts of the men dying down.

I couldn't keep my eyes open. Maybe I was the one who was dying.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Bella...Nobody's cutting her any slack :( Leave me some love by REVIEWING!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own this story.**

* * *

**BPOV**

I was in the clouds. Or at least so I thought when I opened my eyes.

The afterlife.

No. I blinked a few times to realize that I was in a room, a very large, extravagant room with a bluish hue to it. From the corner of my eye I could see that this unusual colour was caused by the thin light blue curtains that protected the room from the intensity of the sun outside but let just enough light in to create a soothing atmosphere.

I was lying in a large four-post bed with delicate white chiffon drapes tied in bunches at the corner. My right leg was heavily bandaged and hanging in a sling of some sort that had been attached to the posts of the bed using sturdy wire. Dangling closer to my torso was a metal triangle. I took a deep breath and grabbed onto it. As I tried to lift my upper body up with its help I cried out in anguish as the most searing pain shot through my lower back, down the side of my calf to the thick skin of my heels.

I writhed on the bed and tried to adjust my position so that it would just stop but no matter how much I shifted my hips from one side to the other the throbbing pain continued running back and forth my back and my heels.

The door to the room burst open and in came what I first imagined to be a pixie. All thought of pain and discomfort left me as this complete stranger of a girl ran towards me. She wore her hair short, a little spiky towards the ends, and had the most lovely, almost opaque, unblemished skin. She also wore a baby pink A-lined dress with a white lace ribbon tied around her waist that added to her already delicate demeanor.

"Bella" she gasped coming to my side, "You're awake!"

I knit my brows, "How…" I stumbled, "You know my name?"

She was silent for a moment. I looked into her unusual auburn eyes. I'd never seen such eyes before.

"Oh Bella," she said with a hearty laugh, "you told us of course!"

"I – I….I don't remember…"

"Of course you don't remember. You were hurt. We didn't know if you would make it in one piece."

The forest. Nicole. The hunters. It all came rushing back. So did the pain on my right side. I clamped my eyes shut to make it all go away.

It didn't go away however. I opened my eyes again to see that the pixie had pulled up a chair and taken a seat. She sat on its edge as though expecting me to do a little dance for her.

"We?" I croaked.

"Carlisle and I," she chirped.

I looked at her expectantly, hoping that she'd share some more. It took her some time to understand that I was waiting.

"Oh silly me! I'm Alice."

"Alice," I repeated and nodded for her to continue.

"Well umm…" she looked away and fidgeted with medicine bottles on the bedside table, "we found you in the forest and your leg was crushed so we brought you here and for a moment Carlisle thought he'd have to amputate it."

"Amputate?"

"Yes, as in umm…" she made a clicking noise with her tongue as she searched for the words, "he was thinking of cutting your leg off…so that the infection wouldn't spread."

A chill ran through my spine. I gaped at her.

"But he didn't," she grinned, "It took a lot of work you know. Your leg was broken in six places. Carlisle had to work on you for almost three days straight. I mean the procedure he used is still in its experimental phase."

"I don't understand."

"I know. I know," she said nodding, "I can't explain these things well. How would you like me to call Carlisle? Yes I'll do that."

She didn't wait for a response. She was out the door before I knew it. I flattened the fine linens covering me as I tried to process what had just happened.

Nothing - not my surroundings, not the queer creature that was Alice – had quite sunk in when she re-entered accompanied by a blond man, pallid like her and almost god-like in stature. He was dressed in dark pinstriped trousers, a matching waistcoat and a plain white dress shirt. A gold chain hung loose from his breast pocket. His presence alone immediately commanded my respect.

"Bella," he said with a sincere smile brightening his face, "I'm Carlisle Cullen. I take it you've already met my daughter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Monsieur Cullen," I said.

He came closer to my side and looked me in the eye. Like his daughter, he had the most peculiar eyes.

"You took quite a fall there, Bella. You've been unconscious for almost three weeks. How are you feeling?"

"I hurt all over."

_That's it? This man saved your life and all you can do is complain some more? If there had been an award for the most ungrateful girl in all of France it would be you!_

Carlisle nodded and sighed, "I can understand that you're in a lot of pain child. I'll try to do what I can but you must understand how grave your injuries really are Bella. Your leg has been broken in six places, completely smashed in two places. I tried my best to repair the damage. I've had to replace the depleted bone with metal plates and I'm afraid I can't let you even attempt to walk until I'm confident that enough muscle has grown around the plates. We don't want them cutting through your flesh."

He offered me a meek smile as I stared at him wide-eyed. I had metal plates in my leg, metal that pots and pans are made out of, metal that knives are made out of. And it could pierce through my flesh.

"Will it hurt?" I blurted out.

"I'm hoping that if we let the wound heal properly you won't feel a thing when you do eventually start walking again."

I fisted the sheets as the gravity of what he was telling me was sinking in.

"When will that be?"

He sighed again and looked at me, "I'm afraid I can't be sure child. The procedure that I've used is still fairly experimental. I cannot put a timeline on your recovery. Part of it will be up to God and the rest will be up to you."

I nodded, not really understanding how I can help myself in this situation.

_I'd be better off dead._

"But you can't give up hope," he boomed, "Enough of this morbid talk. I'm sure you'd like to get freshened up and have something to eat. I'll leave Alice to it. When you're done, I'll come give you something for the pain."

He nodded at me and left the room. Alice hopped towards me and leaned down to talk to me animatedly.

"How would like a bath Bella?"

"I…umm…I don't think I can…"

"_Ah oui_, _c'est vrai_," she said looking down at my leg, "we can't really give you a full bath but I can use a sponge. Yes that's what I will do!"

She ran off to get the necessary things to give me a sponge bath. Her unusually cold hands sponged me clean and washed my hair over a portable basin. She helped me get dressed in a cotton night gown. I ran my fingers over it. I'd never had the privilege of wearing something so exquisite.

Alice got me a healthy, well made meal which I devoured greedily. All the physical activity made me tired and my body wanted to shut down and rest but the pain was still gnawing at me.

I watched Alice swiftly clean the room, putting away towels, soap, food trays. I'd never been taken care of in such a way before. I'd always been the one serving. However, Alice didn't look the part of a caregiver and I couldn't help but think that she had better things to do.

"Alice," I said, "I really hope I'm not putting you through much trouble."

Alice came and sat next to me, folding her hands on her lap, "Bella, you've just had a very serious accident. We will do everything possible to help you get better. And all this," she said waving at the rest of the room, "is nothing. All you should be concerned about right now is getting better."

My eyes became watery, "It's just that…Nobody has ever…Oh I shouldn't complain."

"I know, Bella," Alice said stroking my bandaged leg, "You look tired. Would like to try and get some sleep?"

"I don't know if I can. The pain on my right side is just so…"

"All right," Alice said getting up, "I'll go get Carlisle to give you some morphine. Just try to get a little comfortable."

She hadn't been gone a minute when she returned with Monsieur Cullen.

"How're you feeling Bella?"

"Fine." I didn't want to seem ungrateful by complaining too much. His smile made me believe that he understood that.

He rummaged through the bedside table and took out a tiny vial and picked up a needle from the tray on the table. I watched as he shook the vial before puncturing the top with the needle and transferring the contents in the vial. He took a piece of damp cotton from a jar and rubbed it on my arm.

"This will just sting a little, Bella."

He pressed the needle into my skin and injected the medicine into me.

"It'll be a while before its effects kick in. Alice and I will leave you to rest. We'll be right outside if you need us."

He smiled and left.

"Is there anything I can get you Bella?" Alice inquired.

I shook my head.

"_Rien?_"

"Water, maybe."

Her face lit up and she poured me a glass of water and helped me drink it.

"Alice?"

"Yes?"

"Could you maybe draw the curtains? I'd like to see outside."

She nodded and drew the curtains, letting the sunlight in. Perhaps it was the medicine or perhaps it was just my wild imagination but I could have sworn that for the smallest moment, as her fingers caught the light of the sun, they glowed.

"Anything else?" she inquired.

"No thank you."

"I'll let you get some rest then"

She danced out of the room leaving me alone with my pain and my thoughts. I was out within a matter of minutes and I only woke late at night the next day. The same routine was followed. Monsieur Cullen and Alice came to see me. Alice helped me bathe and fed me. Monsieur Cullen would then return to give me some more morphine to help me sleep. I slept for hours and hours. When I awoke I didn't know what time, day or month it was. It was almost as though I was trapped in between the realm of reality and dreams and it was making me sick. I needed to know what time of day it was. I needed a proper daily regimen for my sanity.

It had been four weeks – maybe five, I can't really tell – when Monsieur Cullen cut my cast to check on the progress. He engineered a sort of drape over my torso so that I didn't have to see the cuts and bruises on my leg while he examined it.

"Monsieur Cullen?"

"Oui, Bella?"

"I've been thinking…and I would like to stop taking the morphine."

Monsieur Cullen peered over the drape, "What?"

"It's just that I don't like waking up at ungodly hours and not knowing what time of day it is. And I can't imagine how hard it must be for you and Alice to come take care of me late at night."

"Bella, believe me when I say that it really isn't as much trouble as you think it is. We are more than glad to be of assistance."

"Of course you are! I'm not doubting that. It's just it would give me a peace of mind if I stopped and could sleep at normal hours."

"It will be very painful without the morphine child. Perhaps you should take it a little while longer."

"But for how much longer Monsieur Cullen? I cannot be this…this vegetable forever. I'd like to be awake at respectable hours."

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he thought about what I said, "I won't force anything on you Bella. If you feel that you can endure the pain at nights then I won't impose it on you."

"Thank you," I said smiling at him. There was something very fatherly about the way he spoke and acted with me. It made me miss Papa dearly but I knew that I would be of no use to him in this state. He needed a healthy daughter to take care of him so I needed to get better as fast as possible.

That night he came to check on me again.

"You're sure about this child?"

"Yes," I said smiling my bravest smile.

"If you need anything…"

"Of course."

He left me in the dark. I had been awake almost the entire day so it didn't take long for me to fall into a light slumber.

It didn't last long however. The shooting pain in my right side intensified tenfold and no amount of adjustment would make it go away. I had half a mind to call out for Monsieur Cullen.

_You are a downright coward. Men get their head severed in war and you cannot even take a little pain in your leg._

I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming.

_Think of something. Anything. Count to one hundred. No! Count backwards!_

And so I began counting backwards from one thousand. It required some concentration and in a little while I'd forgotten about it and a in a little while longer I'd drifted off to sleep again.

I was in and out of my dreams numerous times through the night. By the time Alice came in with my breakfast, my eyes were drooping from fatigue and my entire being wanted to scream from the pain. After breakfast I spoke to her a little before going back to sleep again.

The following night, I was awake again, my body plagued with this ceaseless pain on my right side. It must have been late, past three in the morning maybe, when I managed to fall asleep but no less than five minutes later I was awake again. I tried to distract myself with the view from my window. My room must've been high up, the second or third floor, because the window was shielded with leaves belonging to a large tree. The moonlight filtered through them into my room, illuminating certain areas.

I heard something shifting near the door. I waited for another sound but all was quiet. I raised my head a little to have a good look at what had caused it. A thin sliver of light revealed a pair of bare feet near the door. They belonged to outstretched legs and were crossed. Had I not seen how pale Alice and Monsieur Cullen's skin was I would've mistaken them to belong to a dead body. They were big, bony and beautiful feet but why were they in my room?

"Monsieur Cullen?" I asked, thinking that the doctor had decided to keep an eye on me overnight.

There was no answer.

"Monsieur Cullen, is that you?"

The man cleared his throat and answered, "In a matter of words I suppose."

I froze. The husky yet silky voice didn't belong to Monsieur Cullen. It was someone else.

"You're not the doctor," I said, fumbling with my linens, checking if I was covered.

"No."

"Then may I ask who you are?"

Silence. I waited.

"I'm his son."

"Oh! Alice never mentioned she had a brother."

But then again, I'd never asked Alice anything about her family. It was always about me.

"A-are you uncomfortable," he whispered, "with me being here?"

"No," I lied, "your family has saved my life. There's no reason for me not to trust you."

It was true. I was nothing but grateful for how much care the Cullens had given me but part of me panicked at the thought of there being a stranger in the dark room with me. I felt vulnerable knowing that he had been watching me sleep while I couldn't even put a face to the voice that spoke to me.

"Is that what you really think?" he said, sounding unsure.

"Of course."

We were quiet again.

"You're having trouble sleeping," he finally said.

"Yes."

"I could call Carlisle. He could give you the morphine and you'll get a good night's sleep."

"No it's really all right. Just give it time. I'm sure I'll fall asleep some time."

"But you must be in a lot of pain. Won't it be easier?"

_He must want some sleep himself. Should I just pretend to sleep?_

"Monsieur Cullen," I said clearing my throat, "I'm sorry to keep you from your rest. Really, you don't need to stay here and keep vigil. I'll be fine."

He let out a little chuckle, "You can say I have trouble sleeping too Bella. Keeping an eye on you is really no trouble at all. It's actually keeping me occupied. What does trouble me is why you won't let Carlisle give you something to help you sleep."

I ignored his question about the morphine, "I'm sure there are better things to do than watch me sleep."

"But you're not asleep are you? You're wide awake and we're chatting. Perhaps," I heard amusement in his voice, "perhaps I can bore you into going to sleep."

I shifted a little in a vain attempt to ease the pain in my lower body.

"I highly doubt that."

"Maybe a story then…"

My heart lurched with mixed feelings of sorrow and excitement. I couldn't even remember the last time somebody had told me a story. It was when I was much younger, when life was so carefree and the people I loved were healthy and happy, and most importantly, there for me.

All I managed to choke out in response to this stranger's offer was, "Yes please."

He shuffled about a little, pulling his legs into the darkness along with the rest of his body, and got comfortable.

"Hmm…" he thought, "how about..._The Boat that Sailed over Sea and Land_?"

"That would be lovely…" I smiled.

"Well," he cleared his throat in preparation for his narrative, "there was once a King and he only had one daughter, a daughter whom he loved dearly. He loved her so much that when the time came, he was unwilling to let her marry. But he couldn't keep her to himself forever so he decided to marry her off to the most worthy of all men. He announced to the kingdom that the man who could build a boat that traveled on water and on land would rightfully win the hand of his one, his only, his precious daughter."

And so started his story of _the Boat that Sailed over Sea and Land_. I was completely wrapped up in the tale of the man who had succeeded in making such a boat but couldn't win the hand of the princess because of the stubborn King. I gasped as the stranger spoke of how unreasonable the princess' as well as her father's demands of this worthy young man were but how he overcame every obstacle presented to him. In the end, the King had no choice but to give him his daughter's hand in marriage as there was no other man worthier than the architect of the Boat.

I stared at the ceiling as the stranger wrapped up his tale. A yawn informed me that I was tired enough to try sleeping again.

"That was lovely." I didn't want to say anymore in fear of offending him.

"But you didn't like it."

"No…no, it's not that."

"Bella, tell me what you're thinking."

"It's just, I don't understand the princess."

"What is it about her?"

"What her father demanded of the woodsman was wrong and she just…she just agreed with him and made more ridiculous demands of him."

"Well I suppose not all women are like you Bella."

I felt my face become hot and thanked the heavens that it was too dark for him to see. Nobody had ever seen me as a woman before. Not even Jacob. Come to think about it, I was more of a play thing to him.

"You have a wonderful skill," I said, "Telling stories. You do it wonderfully."

He fell silent again.

"You're tired. Perhaps you should try getting some sleep now."

I stared at the ceiling some more.

"Maybe," he said after a while, "Maybe closing your eyes will help."

I grinned and closed my eyes and let the drowsiness take over my body.

"Does it hurt too much?" I heard his faint voice.

Unable to lie in my state I told him the truth, "Yes."

I could hear him inhaling and exhaling loudly. When he spoke next it was though he was right beside me, "Carlisle…he says that it'll take some time for you to heal and that even then it will hurt. But he says that some day you may wake up and realize that it doesn't hurt anymore."

"Mmmm…I hope so," I said, wanting nothing more than to sleep a little now.

I heard his bare feet plod away from me. I could just muster up a few last words before losing touch of my senses to sleep, "You didn't tell me your name."

"What difference would names make Bella?"

And just like that, the pain forgotten momentarily, everything went blank.

* * *

**A/N: And so they meet again...I can understand if some of you think that what Bella's going through physically is nasty but I thought it would actually drive the point that she's only human home. One thing I noticed about book Bella is that she always gets injured but it always seems like she can brush it off her shoulder ya know what I mean?**

**I've been getting some lovely reviews lately. Keep 'em coming! REVIEW!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ay karamba! This one took a long time to write. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Acacia everywhere. It was as though the whole world had been draped in these tiny yellow flowers that gleamed in the summer sun. Almost out of habit, I plucked the largest flowers that my hands could reach as I strolled lazily through the paved path hooded by the golden flowers. Their soft petals brushed my cheek and whatever skin that wasn't covered by my velvety summer dress. Those that had withered and fallen to the ground and shielded the heels of my bare feet from the hot paved ground beneath. When I had a substantial bunch in my hands, nicely formed into a bouquet of sorts, I rushed through the yellow haven to drop them off at the familiar doorstep._

_I ran into the green fields towards the village. I kept running and running some more but the town only seemed to be getting farther away from me. My feet began to feel sore and the heat of the ground sent excruciating hot flashes through my heels up to my lower back. I stood up on my toes and looked around to try and get my bearings. The acacia covered pathway was nowhere to be seen behind me and in front of me Les Fourchettes seemed to be a mere dot. I plopped down onto the ground and looked down at the bouquet of flowers._

_The hot flashes didn't go away even though I was now sitting and my feet were barely touching the ground. I lay down on the ground and lifted my legs up into the air to see if that would help but it didn't. I turned my head to the side to prevent the bright summer sun from making my eyes teary and eventually closed my eyes, losing myself in the heat mixed with the light breeze; a combination which made my skin tingle. _

_I had almost forgotten where I was when I heard the faintest howl. I sat up, my back rigid, and looked all around me. _

_I was alone. _

_Then I heard it again. _

_Standing up again and I tip toed towards the place where it seemed to come from. I had only taken a few tiny steps when three figures came into my view. They each had a dog which was desperately trying to break away from its restrains. A chill ran down my spine as I recognized the figures to be the men who had been spying on the Ceccaldi Mansion. One of the men barked an indistinct order at the other two and they obeyed by bending down and untying their dogs' leashes._

_My feet remained glued to the baking ground as the beasts charged at me howling from hunger. They edged closer and closer but I just stood there._

_I dropped the flowers and ran the other way towards the village. I sprinted with all the speed my body would allow but the flashes of heat accompanied with the pain in my leg slowed me down. The sounds of the dogs' barks got louder and the patter of their racing paws matched the thumping for my heart. _

_My run was reduced to nothing more than a limp. I risked a look behind me only to elevate the fear that was close to paralyzing me. When I looked straight ahead again I saw what my eyes had been desperately seeking – help._

_It was a person. I cried out for help but there was no response. I called again and still nothing. He remained still, as though a statue. _

_The dogs were so close I could feel their ragged breath on my back. I cried out one more time before they caught up with me. Something pierced through my flesh. I collapsed onto the ground writhing but trying my level best to get away from the monsters by dragging myself along the ground. The skin that had been caressed by the acacia petals not too long ago was now covered in a mixture of dirt and my tears. I felt as though someone was filling my insides with filth as the pain spread all over. _

_I looked up at the still figure again hoping against all hope that it would come to rescue me but it didn't. I called out to it again and again until my tears blurred my vision and I was blinded by what seemed like the sparks of a fire._

I started awake at the sound of my bedroom door opening. Alice entered the room singing her, "Good Morning!" She skipped to my bedside table with my breakfast tray and looked at me.

"Bella? Are you okay?" she inquired, putting the tray down.

I rubbed my neck to find that I was drenched in sweat. The pillows were moist as well. I looked up. Alice was still waiting for an answer.

"I had a bad dream."

"And how is the pain? Should I go get Carlisle? He can give you something…"

"No, I'm fine, really. Don't worry," I reassured her passing a hand over my forehead, "Could you get me a damp cloth if it's not too much trouble?"

She hurried to the bathroom and got me a damp wash cloth. I wiped my face, neck and hands with it and gave it back to her. She helped me sit up and placed the tray on a small portable table in front of me. A Spanish omelet and toast – that was my breakfast.

"Alice, this looks delicious."

She shrugged off my compliment, "I'm not much of a cook. My brother Emmett, he's the one who loves to dabble in cookery."

I stared at her with a chunk of toast in my mouth.

_Her brother Emmett? The same brother that was in my room last night?_

I chewed the toast and swallowed, "You never told me you had a brother."

"Well he's not here at the moment. He's accompanying my mother on a trip to South America. She's a cartographer. You know…she makes maps."

"That must be so wonderful; traveling around the world, going to new places."

"She seems to enjoy it. I'm happy right where I am in France though."

"So," I said, playing with a piece of omelet with my fork, "do you have any other siblings?"

Alice took up a chair and sat down next to me. Crossing her legs she said, "Well…there's Emmett who is traveling with my mother. My husband Jasper is accompanying them as well. He's a linguist. Emmett's wife Rosalie lives in Paris. She's a physicist. She hates it here because you can never get the right equipment."

A doctor, a cartographer, a scientist and a linguist all in one family. The Cullens certainly were an accomplished family. I shifted my weight a little, feeling that my simpleton ways were imposing on such highly qualified people.

But that still didn't add up. Alice mentioned one brother, Emmett and he was off in South America. Who was the man who I'd spoken to last night? I trembled at the thought of a stranger sneaking into my bedroom late at night without the knowledge of the Cullens.

"And there's my youngest brother Edward," Alice finally said.

I shook away the sudden jolt of happiness I felt at the sound of that name and looked at Alice. She was watching me intently…more intently than usual.

"Oh?" I said, "And what does he do? I'm sure it's something as impressive as the rest of your family."

Alice smiled, "He's a writer. We're rarely allowed to read what he writes but he's very good. He's taken up an interest in politics…not that he wants to get involved or anything. He's just interested in how everything works and he has been documenting it for quite some time."

He was a writer. That would explain his great storytelling skill but something about what Alice had said didn't add up. From her description, it was apparent that Monsieur Cullen's children were all grown-ups and were well established in their jobs. Monsieur Cullen didn't look like the father of three adult children though. He hardly looked thirty.

"Monsieur Cullen seems so young to have three grown children," I commented.

"Carlisle has a very big heart. He found us all when we were in desperate need of help and took us in. He and Esme took care of us as though we were their own children. They educated us and helped us become who we are today."

I believed everything she said. I looked at Alice's perfect, glowing face, "They also raised you to be kind and generous to complete strangers in their time of need."

Alice smiled and nodded. It was clear from the way her eyes looked down at the floor just how much respect she had for Monsieur Cullen. But then again, I suppose anybody would have an immense amount of respect for the person who has raised you, fed you and given you a home, like my Papa.

Papa!

"Alice!" I said all of a sudden, "Could you please get Monsieur Cullen?"

"Of course," she said getting off her chair, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I just really need to speak to him."

I looked into her auburn eyes and for the tiniest moment an almost aching sense of sorrow flashed across her eyes. She darted out of the room to get Carlisle before I could ask what was wrong.

"Good morning Bella," Carlisle boomed as he entered my room, "And how are you feeling today?"

"Fine, thank you."

"You didn't sleep well Bella. Your eyes tell me everything."

"I'll get used to it Monsieur Cullen. I promise."

"Pain is not something you should have to get used to. It is my job as your physician to do what I can to relieve that pain. Are you sure you still don't want me to give you some morphine?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I assured with a grin.

"Then what is it I can help you with child?"

"It' umm…well…I should have done this a long time ago, I know, but it's my father. He'll be worried about where I've been all these days. If you could maybe write him a note and tell him that I'm all right, I'd be very grateful for that."

He and Alice exchanged the most curious glance before he turned to me and smiling meekly and saying, "Of course Bella. I'll send a messenger right away."

"Thank you so much! Charles Swan, that's Papa's name. Anyone in Les Fourchettes will know where he lives."

Carlisle softly patted my bandaged leg, "Is there anything else I can help you with Bella?"

"Not that I can think of right now. I can't thank you enough for everything."

"You can thank me when you're all good and healed child. Until then…your body needs rest. You need to get as much as possible all right?"

"All right."

He and Alice left closing the door behind them. I drank some water and slowly drifted off again.

It was well past midday when I awoke. Almost as though she could hear my eyelids open, Alice hopped into my room with the lunch tray and a book.

"What's that?" I inquired, pointing at the book.

"I thought you'd be bored so this is for you." She handed me the book, _The Count of Monte Cristo._

"Alice! This is one of my favourites! Thank you!"

She knitted her brows, "You've read it?"

"Yes, I have. There used to be a large library where I used to work and I'd often sneak in at night and read for hours and hours."

"Hmm…" she said deep in thought, "Well it can't be larger than ours. Carlisle has a very very old collection. Perhaps you can go there and pick out something you haven't read already."

My heart leaped in joy, "Really? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much!" I looked down at my leg and frowned, "But this will do for now. It's a fairly large book. I'm sure I'll be all healed up by the time I finish it. Maybe then you can take me yes?"

Alice nodded and we talked while I ate lunch. She left me by myself while I read about the trials and travails of Edmund Dantés. After I'd had dinner that evening I tried to get some more sleep.

_I giggled uncontrollably as I waited for him to open the front door and find the bouquet I'd left on the doorstep. I quickly took cover behind Monsieur Noir's cart as I heard him approaching the door. _

_The door flew open and out he stepped snapping on his suspenders and pulling on his black work boots. His lips curved up into a smile as he saw the present. He looked up searching the vicinity for his little admirer._

_I tried my best to suppress my giggles behind the cart. Soon afterwards he went back inside with the flowers and I was left alone. _

_And there it was again, that burning sensation in my lower body. It was as though a thousand tiny shards of glass were being driven into my leg. I tried to walk back home but I was nailed to the ground. I mustered up all my strength and moved my leg. It did move this time but it had come apart. My flesh splayed everywhere as I tried to put it back together. The meaty substance disintegrated into a jelly and then into a vile purplish liquid._

I gasped for air and felt below for my leg.

"Bella?" I heard the familiar husky voice say.

I looked about me. It was dark and Edward Cullen was nowhere to be seen.

"Bad dream?" he asked.

"Very," I said trying to reposition myself. Once I made myself as comfortable as I could possibly be in my state I waited in silence.

He didn't say anything.

"Alice says you're a writer."

He snorted, "I suppose she has to give what I do a name of some sort. I'm not much of a writer. I just put words down on paper sometimes to try and understand things."

I didn't quite understand what he was saying. I always thought that writers put pen to paper to share their thoughts, the images they had in their head, with others. I'd never heard of anyone writing to help understand things for themselves.

"Do you mean like how in school we were made to write out a word down five times if we spelled it wrong?"

"Almost," he chuckled, "but not quite. You see, sometimes I'm thinking of something – the first half of a thought, let's say – and I don't know what the second part is going to be right at that moment so I write it down so that some day I can come back to it and complete it. Does that make sense?"

I mulled everything he'd said over. It was actually a very good idea. I'd lost count of the numerous times I'd set out to get to the bottom of something that was troubling me – the entire situation with Jacob for instance – and then lost my chain of thought along the way.

"I'd never thought of it that way. I just always thought writing was a means of recording things…sharing information."

"Bella," he chimed, "you'll be amazed at how different people use the written word differently. Most writers, when they write, they're trying to figure something out, a way of expressing a particular feeling. They try to find out who they are and why they are the way they are. Does that make any sense?"

I grinned at the silly question I was about to ask, "What do you think Alexandre Dumas was thinking of when he wrote The Count of Monte Cristo?"

"Dumas based it on the actual story of a shoemaker who'd been falsely accused of being a spy for England."

I gaped at the dark corner from which his voice sounded, "You can't be serious. I thought it was all in his imagination."

"Everybody's ideas have their roots somewhere, Bella. A writer is nothing without inspiration."

I turned my torso a little so that I was facing the corner where he sat. I looked into the dark for the slightest hint of a face, a head of hair or a silhouette but saw nothing.

"Then Monsieur Cullen, what inspires you?"

My eyes, which had adjusted to the dark, caught the faintest glimpse of his legs shifting positions.

"Morbid things that you need not be burdened with in your state."

Alice's words echoed in the back of mind, _He found us all when we were in desperate need of help and took us in. _Perhaps Edward's choice to remain inconspicuous had something to do with the reason why Carlisle had taken him in in the first place. Every possible scenario crossed my mind. He could have been mutated, burned, tortured…

There was only one way to find out.

"Monsieur Cullen," I whispered, "if I ask you something, you won't mind?"

"It depends on what you ask Bella."

"How come I never see you in the day with Alice and the other Monsieur Cullen."

"Well," he said, drawing out the word as though trying to choose his words carefully, "I have trouble sleeping at night. Usually I would write but now that you're here and awake most of the night, it would almost be like missing out on good company."

My cheeks grew hot, "I'd hardly consider myself good company."

"That's just because you don't have the privilege of spending time with yourself."

"But really Monsieur Cullen, why do you hide yourself from me? Why don't you come here," I said motioning towards the chair next to my bed, "so that I can see you?"

He remained silent for a minute, then for several minutes. I was beginning to think that this time I had really overstepped.

"Bella…I…part of…" he paused. He clicked his tongue, shifted positions, scratched at the carpet and then finally resumed what he was saying, "...part of what I write – the morbid things I told you about – it has to do with the way I am."

I raised my head off the pillow a little trying to get a glimpse of him again. _What does what he writes have to do with me being able to see him? _I needed a glimpse of him. I needed to see his body language. Without visual stimuli I didn't understand a word he was saying.

"Are you trying to say you're a bad man Monsieur Cullen? Because I don't think you are. Your family has been nothing but good to me and you – you haven't harmed me in any way, even though any other man probably would if he was alone in a room with a helpless girl in the dead of night. If you're a bad man I don't know it."

"I can't help who I am Bella. I'm a monster and seeing me will only make it worse for you."

"But how do you know that? I'm not a little girl who's afraid of the monsters that lurk underneath my bed! I've probably seen far worse than what you think will scare me."

He let out an angry growl, "Enough is enough Bella! I think you should go back to sleep now."

There was a finality to his words. They were laced with authority and anger. I dared not speak another word in fear of giving him the impression that I was disrespectful in any way. His family had, after all, saved me from the clutches of death.

The excitement of our conversation wore down faster than I expected and let out an all-consuming yawn. I wanted more answers from the stranger in my bedroom but my body had other intentions.

Alice was staring down at me with the largest, toothy grin on her face, when I woke up the next morning. I'd just about managed to rub the remnants of sleep away from my eyes when she shoved my toiletries into my hands and placed the portable basin in front of me.

I looked at her, curious as to the cause of all her excitement. "Alice, what's going on?"

"You just hurry up now. Go on, rinse away."

I rinsed and then ate my breakfast quickly. Once I was done, she took my tray and danced out of the room. She then returned with a chair on wheels.

"Well?" she asked as I looked it over, "What do you think?"

"I've never seen anything like it. What is it?"

"It's a wheelchair darling! So that I can take you to the library!"

My heart leaped in joy! I was finally going to leave this room…if not just for a little while.

Alice carefully began taking my leg out of the sling attached to the posts of my bed. She did it slowly, very slowly. It almost looked like she was nervous. Of course she had every reason to be. Carlisle had made it very clear that any sudden jolts to my leg at this stage of the treatment can set progress back by months. It was usually he who handled all business regarding my leg. So where was he?

"Where is the doctor Alice?"

Her movements stilled and she averted her eyes from me, busying herself with the bed drapes, "He has some engagements in the city. It's only me and you today."

"Oh," I frowned at her awkward answer, "Is this all right with him?"

"What? Going to the library? Oh yes, I asked him about that. He said to be careful and to bring you back at the slightest sign of fatigue."

"Ok then," I said putting my arm around Alice's neck so that she could help me onto the wheelchair. She lifted me up effortlessly and put me into the chair. I looked up at her with a raised brow. For such a tiny woman, she was frighteningly strong. Alice seemed to get wind off what I was thinking and simply shrugged.

The corridor outside my bedroom was lined with large two paneled window panes that had all been draped by the thick foliage outside. On one end of the corridor was the beginning of what I imagined to be a grand staircase that led to the floors below and on the other side was a pair of French doors adorned with the most delicately beautiful paint work I had ever laid eyes upon.

Beyond those doors was the library…well part of the library at least. Like the house, the library was three storeys high, each level separated by a narrow spiraling staircase. Each floor was small but packed with hundreds, no, thousands of books. It was a very intimate setting. It was a place I felt comfortable in immediately.

Due to my handicap, I couldn't explore the two lower levels but there were more than enough books to browse through on the third floor alone. Alice left me to my own devices once she made sure I was comfortable in the chair. I wanted to look at everything all at once but there were just too many books. I decided I needed to follow a strategy so I started looking at the books in the shelf on the far end. The bottom shelf was inundated with large scholarly leather bound books. Most of them were too heavy for me to lift without hurting myself so I didn't really bother looking at them. I'd skipped almost all the books in the bottom-most shelf when my eyes fell on a comparably thinner book. It was falling apart at the spine so I inspected it with the utmost care.

_Beobachtungen über das Gefühl des Schönen und Erhabenen _by Immanuel Kant. I didn't know what it meant and I thought myself downright foolish when I began flipping through the book written in a language I didn't even understand. As I did so several sheets of paper fell onto my lap.

From the look of it, they had been crumpled up, flattened and then folded as neatly as possible. Reflexively, I looked behind me to see if Alice was gone. She was. I unfolded the sheets to reveal writing in impeccable penmanship:

_A toast to Monsieur Edward Cullen…_

I put the sheet of paper back in the book and closed it. I had no right to read something addressed to Edward without his permission. It wouldn't be respectful to the family that had tended and cared for me when they could have easily left me to be nipped away by forest rodents.

But I needed to know what was stopping the stranger who visited me at night from showing his face. Perhaps this could shed some light on why Carlisle had adopted him in the first place.

Before the sensible side of me could stop the rash side, I opened the book and began reading:

_A toast to Monsieur Edward Cullen. To a new name, to a new beginning…an unwanted beginning._

_**A conversation with death**_

_It was a familiar walk, a walk I'd walked long before I'd fully realized the frailty of life. There he was at the raised land at the end of our farm smoking his pipe like he always did._

_But this time…This time was different because after eight years of maintaining silence while we watched the sun set below the horizon, he finally spoke to me._

"_When a man comes to a cross-road in his life," he says to me, "It is his father who shows him the right way to take. He cannot pick the way for him. He can only hint at what's right."_

_I sat there waiting for instruction, not feeling much of a man, but feeling like an infant waiting for his father to take his hand and teach him how to walk._

"_On the one hand you have life and the on the other you have the honour of being in the Almighty's presence. Choose the latter and you will be free for eternity, your soul at peace. Choose the first, and you will have all the things that you have come to know and love."_

_It seemed an easy enough choice. Men cross continents and take lives to be closer to God. This very opportunity that most people wait their entire lives for was being handed to me with a bow tied around it. It was the right choice._

_But I was a man after all. Perhaps not a grown man, perhaps just a boy but still a human being. How can my heart not weep at the mother's loss of her one and only son? How can my body not mourn the loss of the feel of a woman's naked breast or the taste of her plush lips? How can I abandon this world at an age when all the responsibilities of the world are weighing down on my shoulders?_

"_Life is too important at the moment", I tell him, "If I could I would want to live in this moment forever."_

"_So be it then," he said, removing his pipe from his mouth and producing two glasses filled with wine out of thin air, "so be it! A toast to you Monsieur Edward Cullen. To a new name, to a new beginning."_

_An unwanted beginning. _

I was left dwelling over Edward's little passage the rest of the day. He wasn't joking when he said he wrote about morbid things. A conversation with death; such an idea would never have even occurred to me. I suppose that is why he was a writer and I was a maid.

But while it was clear there was something that deeply troubled Edward, I still couldn't understand why he wouldn't show himself to me. Alice seemed to insinuate that she and her other brother had troubling pasts as well but she didn't seem to have any problems with the way she looked.

That night I dreamt of the faceless man speaking to death.

_A man comes to a crossroad in his life._

_Life or joining God?_

_A part of me wanted to get a closer glimpse of the two men but another dominant part of me wanted something else. _

_It was hot and I couldn't take it anymore. I turned around and ran towards the creek, stripping out of everything except my undergarments. _

_He was waiting for me in his underpants when I reached the bank._

"_Come on Bella," he said with outstretched arms._

_I jumped up onto him and we both fell into the water. The excitement that pumped through my veins overshadowed my fear of drowning. He decided to have some fun of his own and dunk me into the water. The thrashing of the water was intermingled with our giggles and I soon forgot that I had even been afraid of the water in the first place._

_He let go of me after a while, showing me that I could swim alone by myself. I stayed afloat and then soon moved around. Whenever he'd seem distracted I'd try and do some sort of trick to draw his attention back to me._

_We'd been swimming for quite some time when he finally got out and told me to do the same. I didn't want to get out of the water now that I knew how much fun swimming could be. Most importantly, I didn't want to leave him. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been alone with him for such a long time._

_He began pulling his clothes on and told me to get out again, "Bella, your Papa told me to get you back my sundown. He's going to be very angry."_

"_It's okay. He's never angry with you."_

"_You're going to get sick Bella. Get out of the water and dry yourself up."_

"_No," I said sticking my tongue out at him._

"_Enough is enough Bella!" he said sternly. _

_I froze momentarily as the harsh tone of his voice pierced my lovesick heart._

_**Enough is enough. Enough is enough…**_

_Why did that sound so familiar?_

_The water was going up my nose, down my throat, blurring my eyes. I need air. I need air now!_

The blanket was balled up into my fist as I stared out the window. It was dark outside and I knew if I called out, my stranger would be there ready to talk to me until I fell asleep again.

I needed more answers.

So I turned around but was taken aback by what I found. Instead of a dark, seemingly vacant space by the door, I was met by Carlisle's melancholy eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh...wonder what's up. The book Bella found Edward's little text in was "Observations on the feelings of the Beautiful and Sublime" by Immanuel Kant. Looks like our Edward is a bit of a philosopher****.**** Any ideas on what happens next?**

**Wish me luck! I'm getting my A Level results tomorrow so if I don't update again for a while it'll probably be because I'm sulking about my horrendous grades.**

**The story's been getting TONNES of hits but next to no reviews :( Come on guys, I really want to know what you think so REVIEW!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the awesome reviews! They make my day! Enjoy!**

* * *

**EPOV**

In the midst of boisterous cheers, confetti and popping champagne bottles a group of men stood up on tables, crates, whatever they could find and began to belt out _La Marseillaise_:

Grab your weapons, citizens!

Form your battalions!

Let us march! Let us march!

May impure blood

Water our fields!

Grimacing at the words, I closed my notepad and slipped it into my jacket. Though I had been careful to watch the unfurling of events from the darkest corner of the club, the hovering cigar girl had somehow found me.

"You are not celebrating Monsieur?"

I tipped my hat forward to hide as much of my face as possible and looked through the contents of the wooden cigar box hanging from her shoulders. I picked out two and handed her a note. She took it in between her index and middle finger and suggestively slipped it into her blouse.

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but I would not remember her face the next day even if I wanted to. "If only I'd met you fourteen years ago," I thought, "Then I'd wait for you to finish up here and take you home with me to find out just how beautiful you are. And in the morning I won't have to remember because you'll be there, next to me, in my bed."

Pocketing my cigars, I nodded at her out of politeness and left the club. The claustrophobia I was experiencing in the overcrowded, smoky club didn't wear off after I got out. The streets, like the club, were littered with confetti and drunkards sang their heart out in groups and in pairs. I quickened my pace as I headed further towards the outskirts of the city.

I didn't have to go far before I finally found some peace and quiet by the bridge. I strolled down the paved sides of the Seine in the middle of the night with no particular destination in mind. I looked across the river and took in the wondrous city before me. There was a time when I wished I could stay here, this way forever but now that I was…I wished that I was dead. "The fickleness of human nature," I said to myself, "You can't decide what you want. One minute it is this, the next it is that."

If a tiny thing like that can make me human, then yes, I am fickle. I cannot commit to anything. I am never happy with the decisions I make. Is one ever truly happy with what he has though? If such a man exists, I've never met him and probably never will. But then again, when you are like me, it would be unwise to say, 'never'.

I was brought out of my useless musings when I heard the faint _cloc cloc_ of the sole of a man's shoe on the pavement. Turning to the direction of the sound I saw, a few yards away, a man in a raincoat approaching. In his hand was a rather large wicker basket. I hid myself in the shadows of the bridge tower and watched the man come closer and closer. His steps were unsure and he was trembling. Whether it was from the bite of the cool spring breeze or whether it was from fear, I could not be sure.

He stopped just a few feet away from me, placed the basket onto the ground and shook off some of the tension in his body. It was then that I heard it. A low, vicious _meow_ followed by a loud, anguished _hiss_. The basket shook and the screeches of cats filled the night air.

The man leaned down to whisper calming words to the basket but the cats scratched and shoved against its walls. Sighing, the man reached into his pocket for some rope and searched for something near the edge of the pavement where water collided with concrete. He picked up a large rock, roughly the size of his palm and took it back to where the basket lay.

My breathing stilled as I realized what he was about to do. He tied one end of the rope to the rock and the other around the basket. As though the cats within had some sort of sixth sense, their shrieks grew louder. The words, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," played as though on loop in his mind. With a quivering hand, he picked the rock and the basket up and slowly lowered them into the water.

I had half a mind to grab the basket from the clutches of the coward and push him into the water instead. What right did he have to take the lives of those cats? My foot was out of the shadows and ready to lead the rest of my body towards this stranger but I stopped myself. A thousand and one scenarios regarding the man and his cats ran through my head. Perhaps they were malicious cats that couldn't be controlled. Perhaps they were ill and he was simply putting them out of their misery. I didn't know him. Perhaps they were the only company he had in this world and it was killing him to do this to them.

"Listen to yourself," a voice inside my head hissed, "trying to justify the acts of a coward. Does it make you happy that there may be someone else in this world just like you? Someone who takes God's work into his own hands? Does that give you a sense of satisfaction?"

I bit the inside of my cheek trying to make the voice stop. "I have to stop him," I said to myself, "I have to stop him before he drowns them!"

But, whether on purpose or not – I don't know, I was too late. By the time I'd mustered the courage to walk up to him, he had already lowered the basket into the water and the calls of the drowning cats had all but vanished. I stood a few steps away from him and looked down at the water. The period between ripples grew wider and soon the water stilled.

The man did not acknowledge my presence for quite some time but when he did all he said was, "A fine evening isn't it?" His voice was shaky and his eyes watery. When I didn't respond he walked away. I couldn't help but wonder how he would carry on with normal life after what he'd just done. I wondered if he would know how to ignore the guilt. If so, I'd wished he'd tell me how.

Sighing into the chilly air, I turned around and headed towards the Rue Saint Denis. The sounds of lovers' quarrels, bottles being smashed and drunken banter overwhelmed me as I entered. A few overly made up whores gave me the one-over and called out to me but I'd been down here often enough for most of them to know that I was only interested in one.

I knocked on the familiar red door and was greeted by a young gangly girl with stringy hair. Had her face not been massacred with white powder, rouge and black shadow, I would have even considered her pretty.

"Bon soir Monsieur Cullen," she said animatedly, "How are you doing this evening?"

"Well enough I suppose. Is she here?"

"Yes," she said linking her arm with mine, "come, I'll take you to her."

She led me up the stairs and asked me to wait in the parlor while she alerted her mistress of my visit. I tried my best not to hear the voices behind the doors but I still heard tiny fragments of her thoughts: _The pink or the blue? Does he like blue? Maybe the pink…Why does he do this to me?_

I distracted myself with the tassel on sofa cushions kicking myself internally for prying into her private thoughts again.

The girl came out, gently clicking the door shut behind her, "She will be with you in a moment."

I curved my lips into a meek smile causing her to look down at the floor and rush back down the stairs. You didn't have to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking.

The door swung open and Irina stood seductively perched on the side of the door with her arm grasping the frame above her head. She was wearing an extravagant red beaded evening gown and her wrists and neck had been decorated with fine jewels. She didn't wear as much face powder as she was, by nature, pale like me. She was calm as her eyes met mine but the thoughts rushing through her mind betrayed how she truly felt.

"Edward," she sighed feigning ecstasy, "I thought you'd be around town today. There was some talk of an election." She led me by the hand into her room. I was instantly hit with the potent scent of perfume mixed with the musk of unclean carpets.

"As a citizen of France," I said, withdrawing my hand from her touch, "I would have supposed you would me more informed about what goes on in your country."

She lay down on the divan as I found a seat across from her, "Oh Edward, you know I'm not concerned about those things. I'll leave the politics to you. A girl like me only wants to get by. Would you like a drink?"

She swung her legs off the divan and opened the liquor cabinet. Taking out a crystal bottle, she poured some of its contents into a glass and handed it to me. I swirled it and took a sip. It had the perfect balance of sweet and sour and had this thick texture which wasn't usually found in the country.

"Like it?" Irina inquired as she watched me savor this unusual brand of drink, "Sang du léopard. A tradesman coming from Africa had a bottle on him." _Blood of leopard._ Somehow I wasn't surprised. Irina always had a way of getting her hands on the most exotic of things. This was no different.

I swirled the blood in the glass some more before taking another sip. As I watched the blood slide along the sides of the glass, the image of the man's cats clawing on the sides of the wicker basket as it filled with water flashed through my mind. I put the glass down on the coffee table and rested my head in my hands. All this time, Irina was watching me.

She inched closer to me and rubbed her rouged lip with her thumb, "You've got something here." I made no move to wipe it away myself because I knew what was coming next. She sat down on my lap, wrapped her arms around me and licked it off my lips. I opened my mouth to her and let her devour my lips. The scent of her perfume was too strong and was burning into my nose. I wanted to push her away and run out to get some fresh air but I stayed still, letting her touch me, kiss me, lick me. The way I saw it, having to listen to her lust-filled thoughts about me were a million times better than having to endure the voices in my own head when I was left to myself.

I picked her up and laid her down onto the satin covered bed. Without giving her the chance to say or do anything else, I stripped her of her clothes along with mine and began nipping, sometimes gnawing, at her skin fervently. Her thoughts quieted down and were replaced by low hums and moans. I finally found the silence I had been longing for these past weeks and lost myself in the noise of our guttural moans and the slapping of our skin as I ravaged her. Each time I pumped in and out of her, a part of my mind grew blank as though I was slowly being purged of all my sins. When I came, for the tiniest moment, I felt like the rubbish on the surface had been removed and the water beneath was crystal clear again.

I hid my head in the crook of Irina's neck, unwilling to meet the eyes of the woman I had just taken advantage of. I inhaled more of her revolting scent to punish myself but it wasn't enough.

"Edward?" she finally said biting my earlobe, "I need to clean up."

I rolled off her to allow her access to the bathroom where she would wipe herself clean of my poisoned seed. Once again, I was left alone with the voices in my head.

My mind wandered to what had happened over the course of the last few weeks. Maman had fallen fatally ill. "A complication of the brain," Carlisle said, his face devoid of any emotion whatsoever. I argued that there was nothing wrong with my mother's brain. I lashed out at him saying that he wasn't trying hard enough. Of course, in reality, besides giving her a drought to help her during her attacks there was really nothing more he could have done without making our presence known to the other inhabitants of Les Fourchettes. We couldn't move her to the Cullen home because there was a chance, small as it may have been, of someone noticing that she was missing. If they did, rumors of why she disappeared would spread like wild fire around the village just as it did when my mother left me in the care of Carlisle fourteen years ago. Maman would never be able to go back to her normal life in the village after she had recovered.

So, I kept watch over her at night and towards the end when her attacks were becoming more and more fatal, I hid in my old bedroom during the day. Nobody knew about Maman's illness for the longest time and my heart broke whenever I thought of how she must believe that she was going to die alone. I wanted to reveal myself to her and comfort her in her time of need but I would be jeopardizing my new family by doing so.

I was nearly caught one day by little Bella. She had come to see my mother during her break. I watched through a creak on the floor board as she made my mother tea and they both sat at the kitchen table and chatted. A pang of jealousy tore my insides apart as my mother caressed her hands and embraced her. I had only known my mother to show that sort of affection towards me and now she was treating Bella as her own daughter, as if I had never existed. "But you don't exist," that annoying voice in my head hissed, "You're a ghost that haunts, a pariah."

"It doesn't need to be that way though," I thought, as I watched my mother have another attack. I couldn't go give her the drought because Bella was still there. I sneered as I watched her fumble and sob over my mother's writhing form, "I can change her and…and…then I won't have to share her with another stranger."

I hunched over the floorboard, completely useless, and just waited for Maman's attack to pass. I must have put too much pressure on one of the boards in my frustration because Bella looked up at the sound of it cracking. I whizzed out the window before she could come upstairs and find me. While she inspected my room, I snuck back in through the kitchen door and gave my mother her medicine. She was fast asleep and like always, she would not know that her son was by her side. Kissing her sweaty forehead, I went back outside and hid myself in the shadows until Bella left.

She had just stepped out of the front door when I heard light footsteps behind me. Hearing her thoughts, I knew exactly who it was, "What is it Alice?"

"Carlisle wants to see you."

I turned and looked at her. She was reciting German verbs in her head. I raised an eyebrow at her, "What for?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

"Alice, you know I don't like being lied to."

German verbs were now replaced by the repetitive lyrics of an Indian song.

"He really needs to see you. Come quick…please."

She didn't even wait for an answer. She just made off into the darkness.

I chanced a glance through the kitchen window to see my mother. She was fast asleep, occasionally convulsing but nothing too serious. If Alice had made such an effort to keep her thoughts from me, whatever Carlisle wanted must have been very important.

An half hour later, I was at the house. On entering Carlisle's thoughts drifted towards me from the other end of the house, "We're in my office son."

Folding up my sleeves up and entering his office, I found the entire family waiting for me. Carlisle was at his desk with Esme at his side. Emmett and Rosalie leaned against the bookshelf while Jasper and Alice sat side by side on the couch. I looked at Carlisle, waiting for an explanation.

"Would you like to have a seat Edward?" he asked motioning at the chair in front of his desk. I stayed planted where I was. "No? Well then, I suppose there's no point in avoiding the matter at hand. Edward, Alice has just had a vision."

I looked at Jasper comforting a distraught Alice as she cleared her mind of German verbs and Indian songs. I was immediately bombarded by images of myself kneeling over Maman. She was writhing but not from an attack. Her face was bloody. My hands were bloody. I could taste her blood on my lips, the venom seeping out of my teeth.

I shook my head to get the horrid images out of my head and looked at my foster parents. Carlisle was calm and composed like he always was but Esme looked like she would cry if she could. She couldn't have children of her own in her past life and loved all of us as though we were her own blood. The thought of me going through such drastic measures to be together with my real mother must have killed her but I was selfish and I wanted my Maman.

I squared my shoulders and looked directly into Carlisle's paternal eyes, "I've thought about it."

"Alice's visions tell me otherwise. Seems like you're quite sure with your decision."

"It's only fair that she has the same options as I did." Life would be more bearable if I had my mother with me.

"Edward," Carlisle said rubbing his brow with his finger, trying to find the right words, "You must understand that what happened to you…it was under special circumstances. Your mother has had a full life and I'm so very sorry to say this but she has to leave us sometime."

"No she doesn't!" I bellowed, "She can be one of us. I'm not asking you to do it. I'll do it myself."

His tone lowered, "You will not be able to stop yourself if you do it Edward! You're not ready! I don't want you to live with the guilt of having to live with your mother's blood on your hands do you understand me? Not to mention that a stunt like that can raise enough suspicion to put us, your new family, in danger."

I exhaled a bitter laugh, "That's it isn't it? You don't want the villagers to come after you! That's all you care about! You!"

"Edward!"

I looked to my elder brother, Emmett. His posture had straightened to his full height and he spoke with an air of authority that Carlisle's kind heart could not muster, "Don't talk to Carlisle like that. He's telling you what's best for you."

Carlisle cleared his throat, "Edward please. Nothing good can come out of this if you go through with it. Please listen to me. Your mother brought you to me because you had so much to offer to the world. She wanted to live your life to the fullest. She's already done that. She doesn't need to be changed."

"I'm the one that reads minds Carlisle," I coughed, "not you. Don't you go around telling me what my mother needs and doesn't need."

I turned around with the intention of going back to my mother and going through with my plan.

"Then," I heard Carlisle say, "I'm sorry Edward but I have no choice. Jasper, Emmett."

I'd barely had any time to react as I felt Jasper and Emmett pin me down to the floor, creating a crater where they'd slammed me down. I fought them off but couldn't fight them properly in my emotional state. Rosalie and Alice aided in restraining me as well. They wrestled me to the basement where they tied me up with the chains used for anchors on ships. To the end of each chain they attached a 5 tonne iron weight. They left me lying immobile on the floor along with the rest of the junk that had accumulated over the years. That's what I was – junk. Alice, who was the last one to leave the basement, looked at me apologetically and left the basement door open to let some light in.

I lay there day after day, straining my ears for any clue of how my mother was but Carlisle and the others had done a good job of not thinking of such matters within close proximity. I had made a blunder of things. Because of my irrational behavior I had insulted the man who had given me a second chance at life and alienated my adoptive mother and siblings. I was ashamed of myself. On top of everything, I couldn't even say a proper goodbye to Maman.

Five or six days had passed, I couldn't tell. I heard footsteps descending the stairs. They were Carlisle and Jasper's and I knew why they had finally come down. She was gone. No words were exchanged. I didn't even read their minds. I just closed my eyes and let the dry sobs take over. Unsure of what my reaction would be if they came too close, they kept their distance and watched me as I howled.

"Untie me!" I said in a quivering voice.

Their minds had numbed from watching me mourn. "I'm sorry Edward, what did you say?"

"UNTIE ME! PLEASE! NOW!"

As soon as they'd unchained me I bolted out of the house and sprinted aimlessly into the wilderness. I found a spot where the sun was at its highest, unmindful of where exactly that spot was. I raised my hands into the air and stood still. When I was a child I used to punish myself by standing so in the sun until my arms began to hurt. But this time they didn't because I wasn't the same person I used to be and today I'd lost the last link that connected me to my past life.

I felt small hands on my back. Turning around I found Alice's auburn eyes gazing at me, "Edward, what are you doing?"

"I'm…I'm…I don't know. I just don't know!"

"Edward, we have to get out of here. We'll be seen."

I looked around me and she was right. I was in the middle of an open clearing not to far away from Les Fourchettes. I nodded and followed her lead back to the house. We were about half way home when her face snapped up. She was having another vision.

"Alice, what's wrong?"

"The girl…she's on a horse."

I stared at her, confused. When she couldn't put words to her thoughts I looked at the images in her head and saw little Bella riding our horse Nicole. She was in the woods. There was gun fire and she lay on the ground in an odd manner with Nicole on top of her.

"Where is it?" I said taking Alice by the hand and heading back to the woods.

"I-I…can't tell."

We searched for any signs of her or the people that would shoot at her but the area was too vast and the foliage too thick. We had been searching for a good twenty minutes when a gunshot pierced the silent western sky. When we reached the spot we found three men looking down at the horse's dead body and Bella's paralyzed form beneath it. Alice and I made quick work of driving the thugs away – I took the liberty of breaking one's arm and twisting another's ankle – and removed the horse's corpse from her right leg.

As soon as her leg was exposed to us we spun around and took a few steps away from her. Her leg bone had been crushed and part of the bone had pierced through her flesh, causing her blood to spurt out like a fountain. It smelled of the sweetest champagne in the world and my dry throat craved to devour ever drop of it.

"I can't do this," I said through gritted teeth, "I don't trust myself."

Alice nodded and tried to stop breathing so that the scent wouldn't affect her so much, "We can't just leave her here. We need to take her to Carlisle."

Carlisle? What good could Carlisle do? Would he change her like he did me? But that would go against his principals wouldn't it? After all he didn't allow me to change my mother. Why should he be allowed to change Bella?

"There's nothing Carlisle can do," I said, "I think we should just leave her be and let nature take its course."

"Edward!" Alice cried, "It's just her leg that's broken. Carlisle can fix it." She picked her up, "Help me here!"

I remained still.

"For godsake Edward, she's just a little girl. I'm sure Carlisle can fix her!"

I turned around to look at the girl Alice was holding. She was all grown up but still had the same brown locks and the button nose that a little friend of mine once had. I sighed and took her from Alice and rushed back to the house.

Carlisle wasted no time in treating her once we got there. He said that he could fix her up but it would be a time consuming and complicated procedure. While I wanted to stay in the house and be there when she woke up, the allure of the scent of her blood frightened me along with the rest of the inhabitants of the house so I walked back into the woods and wandered aimlessly and hunted for the next few days. Carlisle found me when he had completed his procedure. His eyes were pitch black from being around a human for so long and he was desperately in need of fresh blood.

"She's going to be fine," he assured me, "It's going to take a long time for her to recover but she will walk again and be able to lead a normal life. Alice told me you had doubts about bringing her to me but you did the right thing by doing so son." He wrapped his arms around me and patted me on the back, "You did well. I'm very proud of you."

I remained silent, wondering how long it was going to take for her to recover.

"I'm afraid you will have to be careful though. She might remember you if she sees you. You understand that I can't let her go home until she's fully recovered?"

"Yes of course," I nodded.

"Is she…is she awake?"

"No. I've put her on some strong sedatives so that the worst of the pain will be over before she wakes up. It could be days before she does actually."

"Oh."

We strolled through the woods for sometime before he spoke again.

"Esme and the boys will be off to South America soon you know. And Rosalie's going back to Paris. The house is going to be quite empty," he said kicking a pebble playfully, "Perhaps you could use a change of scenery. Maybe you could accompany one of them."

I knew it would be dangerous for me to be in the house with a frail human. It was probably the best idea for me to leave…for a while.

That's how I ended up here in Paris. Quite good timing actually, seeing that I got to observe the elections. At times when I was in the middle of rallies and would listen to politicians give speeches filled with false promises, I would forget the mess I had made in Les Fourchettes but as soon as I was alone, I would drown in my guilt and feelings of worthlessness.

I dressed myself up and was straightening my suit when Irina came back adorned in a silk night gown, her face freshly powdered, her body sprayed with a new wave of that pungent perfume.

"Leaving already? Do stay the night."

"What use is staying the night when I can't lose myself in dreams?"

"Oh Edward," she sighed, lying back down against the lacy pillows and spreading her legs a little so that her nether region was in clear view, "You think you're quite the poet aren't you? Tell me something…what good is a poet without a sense of imagination? You could just lay your head here," she said running her varnished fingertips over her plump bosom, "and make believe that you're dreaming."

I put my hat on and placed a big bundle of money on her dresser, "Perhaps another time Irina."

It was quite late and the city had quieted down a little but not completely. It is truly as they say: Paris never sleeps. "And neither do I," I thought to myself.

I walked to Rosalie and Emmett's apartment and let myself in. Rosalie was busy at work on a complicated circuit of some sort. She looked up, brushing her golden mane away from her face, "Edward, it's you! I thought I was being robbed or something."

I laughed at her attempt at playing the weak female specimen when truth be told she was far from it.

"Carlisle called," she said, returning her attention to her screwdriver and wires, "your friend Bella is awake."

* * *

**A/N: All right let me have it...How do you like this not-so-perfect Edward? I'd wanted to go further with this chapter but it was getting a tad too long so there'll be another EPOV after this. **

**The more reviews I get the more I want to write so REVIEW!  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'd hoped to get this chapter out earlier but what can I say? Edward is a difficult man to write. Enjoy!**

* * *

**EPOV**

I sat in a plush armchair across the room and watched Rose try out different combinations on the circuit. She was truly an unusual woman, not because she was a Sanguinarian, as we liked to call ourselves, but because unlike most women she didn't trouble herself with futile thoughts about interfering with other people's lives. She passed on Carlisle's message to me about Bella regaining consciousness and that was that. Her mind was now completely focused on the circuit board in front of her. The world needed more women like her but then again I really don't know if they'd be appreciated if they existed.

I had no interest in electrical gadgets even though they were growing in popularity since the Great War. I only watched Rose work because I had no idea what to do. Did Carlisle expect me to come back or was he simply letting me know of recent developments? Going back would be of no use because I wouldn't be able to see her. I wouldn't be able to give her the comfort a familiar face would provide. My familiar face would probably just send her into shock.

"Do you think I should go?"

Rose pulled away from her work and faced me, giving me her full attention, "I don't know. Would you like to go?"

I pulled at my hair and played with the buttons on my vest, "I really don't see what good it would do."

"Yes, but that doesn't really answer the question I'm asking you." Rose was a scientist and when she asked a question she expected precise answers.

"I haven't been myself the last few months. I've said some terrible things to all of you and to Carlisle especially, when you've already done so much for me. Did he give any hint as to if he wanted me there?"

"Not really. He just asked me to tell you that Bella's awake."

I nodded. If not for anything else, I wanted to go back out of respect for Carlisle. I wanted to show him that I wasn't a coward, that I could face all the obstacles, no matter how terrifying, life threw at me. I wanted to show him that I was still the man that he had mentored and educated all these years. "And what about the girl?" that slithering voice at the back of my mind hissed, "Will you be able to stay under the same roof as her without devouring her drop for drop?"

Yes. Yes I could.

For Carlisle.

"I want to go," I said, getting up from my chair and putting my overcoat back on. I bent down to kiss Rose on the cheek and whisper a, "thank you," in her ear. Before closing the apartment door behind me I looked over my shoulder and jokingly said, "You are sure you'll be all right by yourself?" Rosalie rolled her eyes and shooed me away.

I took my time going to the Cullen house, playing various scenarios of what I would do or say to Carlisle once I got there but nothing I said or did would make up for my behavior towards my new family and the problem we had facing us. While living among humans for a very long time we'd always made it a point to distance ourselves from them. Our interactions with humans would be limited to the exchange of greetings, a few pleasantries and the sharing of important documents concerning our research. The situation with Bella was different. She was a patient who was healing in our house. She was in too delicate a state to be transferred to a hospital and bringing in people from the outside was out of the question. It was up to Carlisle and Alice to keep her company while she recovered. From such close interactions, it would only be a matter of time before she noticed that something was different about us.

But then again she was just a plain village girl after all. If she was anything like the rest of the inhabitants of _Les Fourchettes_ she would probably think Carlisle and Alice's to be God's own children on earth. The thought of how she may think her recovery the work of God rather than a scientific procedure annoyed me. If there was one thing I was glad of when I'd become what I am, I was glad that I wouldn't have to be faced with the superstitious antics of those villagers and here I was now faced with having to hear this peasant girl thanking God again and again for saving her life.

It was sundown the next day by the time I reached the house. Carlisle must have just come back from hunting judging by the fresh boot trail heading into the house. He was in his office writing about Bella's progress in his medical journal. His eyes had a fatherly twinkle in them when he saw me come in.

"I didn't know if you would come," he smiled.

"I didn't know if I should come to be honest," I said, sitting across the table from him.

"There is no use hiding from the monsters under your bed Edward. I've always told you that and I know that you are a man that faces the cards dealt to him head on."

I looked at his paternal countenance; the trust, the forgiveness and the love all evident on it. It was such a shame that he was left with me as a son instead of being able to have one of his own. "Thank you, Carlisle," I said, bowing my head out of respect. We looked at each other for some time before I spoke again, "You would have made an excellent father."

"I hope I _am_ an excellent father, Edward."

I nodded. We were silent again.

"I'm not sure how I can help in this situation," I finally said.

He leisurely flipped through his journal, "There are two problems we are facing at the moment. The obvious one is Bella's recovery. It will be slow and extremely painful for her. But don't underestimate her, Edward. From the few words I had with her this morning, she seems a very strong girl."

I thought back to the day my mother had had an attack in front of her. I'd been blinded by jealousy and rage at the time but now that I thought about it, any other girl would have run out shrieking at the top of her lungs. But not Bella. Yes, she was scared but she kept her composure and took steps to make Maman as comfortable as possible.

"The second problem we are faced with is you," Carlisle said, bringing me out of my recollections. I looked up at him, confused.

Did Carlisle think I was going to show myself to her? Surely he knew I wasn't that stupid. "You haven't given him a reason to think otherwise you buffoon," the sly voice in my head whispered.

"I know," he said in his calm and tender voice, "that you hold yourself responsible for what happened. I also know you well enough to know that your guilt tends to – how should I say it – overwhelm you." He pressed his elbows onto the table and leaned forward so that he could get closer, "I need you to promise me that you won't let it consume you; that you will not tear yourself away from this family because of it."

His eyes were pleading. He knew very well that I was capable of shutting myself out from the outside world and there was very little he could do if I did. I could only imagine how much it would hurt him to see his family fall apart before him. As a father, it was his duty to keep his family intact. As a son, I wanted to do everything I could to help him. I owed him that much at least.

I couldn't find the words to convey to him how I desperately wanted to promise him that but I didn't trust myself enough to make such a commitment. I simply nodded and hoped it would be enough for now.

"So how is she now?" I asked, looking askance towards his bookshelf. The last time I had seen her she was covered in her sweet scented blood and I'd wanted to devour every ounce of blood running through her body. Had it not been for Alice, I would have just left her there to die so that I wouldn't have to reel my inner monster in or worse, have to deal with the guilt of having killed her. I thought avoiding eye contact with my father would hide the fact that I was a coward.

"I gave her a sedative to help her sleep about half an hour back. I'll have to give her some on a regular basis to help her sleep."

I watched my thumb scrape the skin of my index finger intently as I asked, "How long will it be before she walks again?"

Carlisle leaned back against his chair and sighed, "Weeks…Months maybe. I'm not sure. Even when the wound is completely healed and I take the cast off, her muscles will have become very weak and she'll have to undergo intense physical therapy. But even after everything, I can't promise that her pain will go away completely. She may have to live with it for the rest of her life."

I sank into my chair and stared at him.

"Edward…" Carlisle said in a hushed tone.

I shook my head and smiled at him. I was doing the exact thing that I'd promised I'd try not to do just moments ago.

"Sorry," I said looking down at the floor.

"The funny thing about life is that sometimes miracles do happen. She will suffer for years to come, yes but she may also wake up one day and find the pain to be gone."

I nodded and looked down at my palms.

"Would you like to see her?"

"Carlisle, I really don't…"

"I'll be right outside the door if you lose control Edward. I trust you. It's time you trusted yourself a little as well."

We headed up the stairs to the third floor where Bella was staying. Carlisle gently opened the door and ushered me inside. I shot him a worried glance before entering.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he assured.

I nodded and entered the room, closing the door behind me. The room was the picture of tranquility with the simple décor and the dim evening light filtering in through the window. The ambiance of the room almost made me forget the inviting honey-like aroma of Bella's blood.

The drapes on the four-post bed were drawn. I could only make out a faint silhouette of her sleeping form through them. Reaching out to get a glimpse of her, I quickly withdrew thinking that the sight of her helpless body against the clean white linens would only encourage me to sink my teeth into her and savor the drink that caused my throat to dry.

I remembered Carlisle's fatherly advice, "There is no use of hiding from the monsters under your bed Edward." I was the monster. I was afraid of myself and it was time I overcame my fear.

I drew the drapes aside and had a good look at little Bella for the first time since I returned to _Les Fourchettes_ fourteen years ago. She wasn't little anymore of course. Her apple-like cheeks had vanished, leaving instead a defined bone structure. The lips she used to pout with to get her hands on another biscuit were now full and plump with a dark pink hue to them. She still had her brown locks that she would spend hours tying with an assortment of ribbons only now they were splayed out over the white pillow case. She lay there fast asleep, tangled in white sheets that accentuated her delicate features. A painting of Aphrodite that Carlisle had once shown me came to mind as I watched her chest rise and fall.

Even though her leg was bandaged and her upper body was twisted into an awkward position that, no doubt, made her feel more comfortable in her state, her demeanor was the definition of being at peace. Just watching her soft features as she lay unconscious before me made me forget about the fire that raged in my nostrils and the thirst that only a man stranded in the desert can contemplate.

And so I watched, not the little girl I had once known in a life long passed, but the beautiful woman she had grown up to be. I could have been watching her for a minute, I could have been watching her for hours; I couldn't be sure. I just watched in peace without interruption.

I'd never been so close to a human while it was asleep. Sometimes, when I'd watch the city from someone's terrace late at night, images from people's dreams would drift up from the apartments like dust particles and settle in my mind. Some would be humorous, some would be greedy and some would be sickening. Now, being so close to Bella, I couldn't hear anything. Was she one of those unlucky people who did not dream? Perhaps the morphine Carlisle had given her prevented such things.

She began to stir, a quiet moan, probably from pain, escaping her lips. I took this as a cue to leave and call Carlisle.

Being in such close proximity to Bella sent adrenaline pumping through my dormant veins but at the same time it also provided me with a serenity that I had been so desperately searching for the past few weeks. I went to see her every night after Carlisle had sedated her. While I did want to see her and see what progress she had made over the day, I also wanted to test my limits. After a few days of visiting her with Carlisle standing outside I told him that I was sure I wouldn't harm her and that he no longer needed to watch me. I then tried getting closer to her but didn't quite succeed. Focusing on her relaxed face, I would make it to the edge of her bed but would then be slapped in the face with the divine smell of her blood.

This schedule of mine continued till one day when Bella decided that she didn't want to be sedated anymore. My days of experimentation around the human were over. There was no way I would risk getting discovered while she wasn't on heavy medication.

Carlisle and Alice were in need of a hunt. Being around Bella all day had made them very thirsty so they set out after Bella had fallen asleep, leaving me alone in the house with her. I tried to concentrate on a critical essay that had caused quite a bit of an uproar in the intellectual circles of Paris but my mind wandered to the spare bedroom on the third floor. After what seemed to be hours of staring at a blur of words on the same page, I tossed the essay aside and climbed up the stairs. Briefly stopping at her door, I assured myself that she wouldn't even notice my presence and quietly entered.

I decided to sit in the dark corner behind the _armoire_ where I was sure she wouldn't be able to see me if she woke up. My position of choice prove to be, in my opinion, too far away from the object of study. Unlike the other nights, she was tossing and turning tonight. Her dark locks were matted to her forehead and after a turn of her entire body her entire face had been covered by tangled hair. It took every ounce of self restraint I had not to grab her by the shoulders and keep her still so that I could fully appreciate her sleeping form.

She muttered something incoherent before gasping for air. I froze in my place as she opened her eyes. They reminded me of chocolate treats.

"You fool," I thought to myself, "What if she sees you? You have no way out. You've made a mess of things yet again!"

I didn't dare make the slightest move. I even stopped breathing. The complete idiot I was, I thought closing my eyes would somehow make me invisible so I clamped them shut.

It was of no use of course. In my attempt to keep still like a statue, I'd forgotten to reel my extended leg in. She must've have seen it. I could only imagine how frightening it would be for a girl to find a man's leg lying around her bedroom in the dead of night.

"Monsieur Cullen?" Her soft, girlish voice complimented her physical attributes. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. She looked more confused than frightened. I sighed in relief as I realized that she hadn't recognized me. She probably thought I was Carlisle.

"What to do now?" I asked myself, "Should I answer? No if I do she'll know it's me but it was such a long time ago. Would she really remember?"

Her words cut through the silence in the room, "Monsieur Cullen, is that you?"

"In a matter of words, I suppose."

A line of worry passed between her thick, arched eyebrows, "You're not the doctor."

"No," was my answer. It was simple and straightforward. This would go smoothly if I offered as little information as myself as possible.

She squared her shoulders a little on the bed and said in a clear, no-nonsense tone, "Then may I ask who you are?"

Once again, a straightforward and honest answer, "I'm his son."

"Oh! Alice never mentioned she had a brother."

I nodded. Though I didn't ask them, Alice and Carlisle must have been using the same strategy of not imparting more information than necessary in order to keep our identities secret.

There was an awkward silence after that. I'd never had problems chatting up the opposite sex before but then again I'd never been in such a situation where I was a stranger in an injured woman's bedroom in the middle of the night. What do you talk about in such situations? The weather? Politics? Music? It took some time for me to realize that this must be even more awkward for her than it was for me. To her, I was some sort of pervert who was sitting in her bedroom while she slept.

"A-are you uncomfortable with me being here?"

"No," she said, her voice tinged with a little doubt, "your family has saved my life. There's no reason for me not to trust you."

I searched her mind for what she may have really been thinking. I listened and I listened hard but there was nothing. Just like she had no dreams, she seemed to have no thoughts either but you don't always find strangers in your bedroom! She must be thinking something!

"Is that what you really think?"

"Of course." This time she said it with a little more confidence but I still didn't believe her.

My frustration from not being able to hear her thoughts kept me silent for some time. I observed her intently. From the way she shifted positions again and again, it was clear that she was in a great deal of pain and sleep was something that would not come to her easily. I offered to get Carlisle but she refused. Nothing of substance came to mind after that. She needed to rest but the pain wasn't letting her.

Remembering the many times I'd have to calm her down with a story after a day of excitement and games as a child, I thought a story may help. I decided to tell her the one of _The Boat that Sailed over Sea and Land_. It was a favorite of hers as a child. Having seen how hard her childhood was on the farm, I thought that she liked it because she liked living vicariously through the princess who got anything she wished and demanded. Of course I'd forgotten that she was no longer that little girl and was taken aback when I noticed the frown on her face as I wrapped up.

"That was lovely," she said.

"But you didn't like it."

"No…no, it's not that."

I suppose I could have lost my skill of storytelling over the years. I concentrated on reading her mind again but there were no answers.

"Bella, tell me what you're thinking."

"It's just, I don't understand the princess."

"What is it about her?"

"What her father demanded of the woodsman was wrong and she just…she just agreed with him and made more ridiculous demands of him."

I looked at her in amazement. The girl who had once dreamed of being whisked away to a better life was now firmly grounded in reality. She knew her place in the world and seemed to have no wish of being any different.

"Well I suppose not all women are like you Bella," was all I could say.

I caught a glimpse of a beautiful blush color her face before she turned her head away. I suddenly had the urge to see that blush in broad daylight, up-close.

"You have a wonderful skill," she said, her face still turned away, "Telling stories. You do it so wonderfully."

She sighed wearily and looked up at the ceiling.

"You're tired. Perhaps you should try getting some sleep now."

She continued looking at the ceiling, occasionally flinching from pain.

"Maybe – maybe closing your eyes will help," I suggested.

She did so and in a few moments her breathing had slowed down a little and she was drifting off. Her leg or lower back would occasionally twitch, making her breathing become erratic for a split second.

"Does it hurt too much?" I asked helplessly.

Her mind didn't have the energy to make up any more white lies, "Yes."

As though her breath, coupled with the alluring scent of her blood, were drawing me to her like mice to the piper's flute, I found myself bent by the side of her bed whispering into her ear, "Carlisle…he says that it'll take some time for you to heal and that even then it will hurt. But he says that some day you may wake up and realize that it doesn't hurt anymore." I had been angry at the world for giving me this cursed life but at that moment, I wanted to believe what Carlisle had said about miracles.

Carlisle was updating his medical journal after he returned from the hunting trip. Deciding against disturbing him, I roamed the woods in search of Alice after Bella had fallen asleep again. She was in her usual spot, on the highest branch of her favorite tree, watching the sun rise. I climbed up and joined her.

"Morning," I said to her.

She smiled and looked ahead. Her thoughts lingered on her husband, Jasper who was on the trip with Esme and Emmett. I never quite understood the attachment she and Jasper, or Rose and Emmett or Carlisle and Esme shared. When I'd left Les Fourchettes as a young man, I'd never missed Tanya quite as much as Alice missed Jasper at this moment.

"I see that you've had quite a conversation with Bella," Alice smirked.

"She woke up and saw me. I'd been careless."

"No, I think it's good for you."

"Yes, it's nice to know I can be alone and so close to a human without making her my dinner."

She chuckled softly, "Oh Edward, you're so intelligent yet sometimes so daft."

I looked at her questioningly but she remained silent. She closed her eyes and showed me an image of Bella asleep in her bed. It was the same Bella that I had seen only moments ago but there was something different about her. Her peach colored skin was a pale and inhuman. Her hair was still splayed over the pillow but it was shinier and thicker. She opened her eyes and looked at me with...

Crimson eyes.

I shuffled away from Alice on the branch, panic stricken.

"But I…" I panted, "I don't want to! I swear I don't. You must know that I won't change her! You know I know the consequences."

Alice shook her head gravely, "I never said that you want to Edward and I never said that you will either. All I'm saying is that she will, one day, be one of us."

"But your visions are subjective! She doesn't have to."

Alice shrugged and turned her attention back to the beautiful sight of the rising sun.

"Does Carlisle know?"

"No," she shook her head, "I didn't see the need to tell him. Not yet at least."

This wasn't the only vision Alice had over the course of the day. Unlike the first she'd had, the second couldn't be hidden from Carlisle. Bella had asked her to ask Carlisle to send word to her father that she was all right when Alice was bombarded with images of Bella's house in Les Fourchettes being torn down and the farming equipment being claimed by the state. She couldn't feel Bella's father's presence in any of these visions. When Alice told Carlisle of what she had seen, he quickly got dressed as a drifter and set out to the village to gather more information. I offered to go in his stead but he stopped me immediately, reminding me that people may recognize me.

That night, I battled with myself over whether or not I should go and watch over Bella. Alice's vision had scared me but she had also said that I wasn't going to change her. Nothing was set in stone and I knew that I, for one, did not have any desire of changing her. Convincing myself that I wasn't a danger to her, I took my usual place behind the armoire, engulfed in its shadow.

Like the night before she was restless from pain and possibly a nightmare. I still couldn't hear her thoughts so I tried to make the most of what I could from her body language. She had begun to breathe heavily, as though she was running away from something when all of a sudden her breathing stopped completely and she clutched her bandaged leg.

"Bella?" I inquired out of concern.

She looked at me or where my voice sounded from.

"Bad dream?"

"Very."

Our conversation flowed more easily tonight, now that Bella knew I was Alice's brother and meant her no harm. We talked about my writing and what inspired me. It was apparent that she read a lot which was unusual for a woman from _Les Fourchettes_. Even Tanya, who had been endowed with the finest education in the country, never saw the point of picking up a book for recreational purposes. Perhaps I could plan her a trip to the library. I'm sure that would take her mind off the pain.

Though I couldn't hear what she was thinking, it was obvious that she was trying to get me to accidentally reveal myself by asking questions about the things that inspired. I had the urge to just tell her everything but that was not possible. I just tried to make myself seem as vile as I could so that she would have no desire to see me.

"Are you trying to say you're a bad man Monsieur Cullen? Because I don't think you are. Your family has been nothing but good to me and you – you haven't harmed me in any way, even though any other man probably would if he was alone in a room with a helpless girl in the dead of night. If you're a bad man I don't know it."

I couldn't take it anymore. Why wouldn't she just let it be? Couldn't she just be content with the fact that somebody kept her company while she battled with her injury but wished to remain faceless?

I tried to make it seem like it was for her benefit, "I can't help who I am Bella. I'm a monster and seeing me will only make it worse for you."

"But how do you know that? I'm not a little girl who's afraid of the monsters that lurk underneath my bed! I've probably seen far worse than what you think will scare me."

There was that goddamn analogy with the monster and bed again! The stubborn girl just wouldn't let it go. "Perhaps you should just show yourself," the snake in my head hissed, "and tell her that you want to drain the blood from her weak little body in the process."

"Enough is enough Bella!" I said through gritted teeth, "I think you should go back to sleep now."

Yes, I'd scared her into silence and I wasn't proud of it but she was breaching a line beyond which I would lose all control. I could see her biting her lips, probably wondering if she'd just crossed the line with me. "Not quite," I thought in my head, "Not quite yet but lets never go there."

She'd gone back to sleep a few moments later and I went down to the basement to find something that could help Alice take Bella to the library in. Thankfully, I found just the thing: An old wheelchair. I greased it up and tested it before suggesting the library idea to Alice. She jumped up and down in excitement and then wound her arms around me, "That's so thoughtful of you Edward!"

Bella would only be able to look at the top floor of the library. Carrying her up and down the stairs would not only be risky for her health but would also lead to suspicions as to why Alice was strong enough to effortlessly carry her so. I listened to her wheelchair roll from corner to corner from the floor below and strained my ears to hear the turn of every page. If only I could hear what she was thinking; see what she was reading…

Bella's trip to the library proved tiresome as she fell asleep as soon as she returned to her bedroom. I waited for the sun to set so that I could once again hide myself in the darkness. The days were getting longer as high summer approached and I counted the seconds till it was dark enough.

I was just about to head up the stairs to the third floor when Carlisle's voice called out to me, "Edward, please come to my office." He was home with news of _Les Fourchettes_. I hurried to his office where I was met by a dark-eyed Carlisle in simpleton clothes. His demeanor lacked the usual twinkle it usually exuded.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to Bella when she wakes up, Edward."

My heart sank. It hadn't yet occurred to me that something terrible could have happened to her father. All I cared about was that I wasn't going to get my two minutes alone with Bella tonight.

"It's her father Charles," Carlisle said with a broken voice, "The men who shot at Bella, they were going to rob the mansion she worked at. They were caught of course but when they were questioned about Bella's disappearance they told the authorities that she was dead. When Charles was told that he'd lost his only daughter, he suffered a stroke and as you know, with no medical attention…"

"He's dead," I said with a blank face, "That's why Alice couldn't see him when she saw the house being torn down."

"Yes. The land grabbers saw this as a perfect opportunity to make a nice little profit. The Swan property now belongs to Monsieur Ceccaldi."

"Tanya's husband?"

"Yes."

"We should have sent word to him earlier," I said, the guilt I had so long kept bay resurfacing again.

"And we would have told him what?" Carlisle sighed, "He'd have wanted to see her and we couldn't let any more people come here, Edward."

I buried my face in my hands.

"Edward," Carlisle said wrapping an arm around me, "Remember what I told you. Don't blame yourself please."

I looked at him straight in the eye and broke down at the feel of his paternal affection.

"Please," he said again.

"All right."

He patted me on the back and sighed, "Good, I must go tell Bella now."

I followed him up the stairs and was almost about to follow him into the room when he stopped me. Through his eyes I saw Bella tossing and turning in between the sheets again. Through his eyes I saw her look at him in confusion when she was actually looking for me. Through his eyes I saw her world fall apart as he told her the bad news.

I turned away and bolted out into the wilderness. Her wails pierced my senses and the sight of her tear stained face shattered my latent heart into a million unsalvageable pieces. I had let her down yet again.

* * *

**A/N: Oooookay. I think that's quite a bit of angst for one chapter. Go grab a juice-box or a lollipop...anything that makes you happy. But not before you REVIEW! Seriously I love reading your reviews. It makes me want to keep on writing! So definitely leave me some love by reviewing!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy with college applications. Hope this was worth the wait! See you on the other side :)**

* * *

**BPOV**

I have a hazy memory of crawling onto my oldest and dearest friend's lap on Christmas Eve by the fire while the grown-ups were talking at the table.

"Is petite Bella sleepy already?" he chuckled into my ear. I'd fussed all day about staying awake until midnight like the rest of the grownups and even as my eyelids were about to give way to sleep, I shook my head, unwilling to admit defeat.

He fixed the red ribbon tying my hair and patted my curls, "I know just what will keep you awake." Edward wasn't like the other grown ups but he wasn't like children my age either. He was unique and no matter what I did or wanted he would always side with me. When Papa and Madame Masen insisted I go to sleep, he was the one who asked them to humor me.

He wore the most mischievous grin on his face when I looked up at him through sleepy eyes. In one swift move, he rubbed one of his rugged cheeks with the sensitive skin of my cheek. I yelped aloud at the burning feeling it left behind. All sleep had flown right out the window.

"Edward!" Madame Masen warned from the table.

I slapped him on his vibrating chest as he laughed at his little prank.

"I'm sorry Bella," he said, slipping his index finger into my palm so that I could hold it, "Did that hurt too much?"

"No," I lied, rubbing my burning cheek against his velvety sweater.

"We must stay awake until midnight," he said in an excited whisper, "We made a deal remember?"

I nodded sleepily into his chest.

"You forgive me?" he asked. I answered by tightly holding onto his finger.

"How about a story? That should keep you awake for some time."

"A scary one!" I said bouncing up and down in his lap.

"Hmm…okay I'll try. There was a story my Papa told me once. Maybe you'll like it."

I shifted a little to make myself my more comfortable and looked up at him expectantly.

"There was once a woodsman who was madly in love with his beautiful wife. When he found out that he would have his first child with her he promised her the most beautiful rocking chair as a gift for when the baby was born. So he set out into the woods to find the perfect wood for the perfect chair. He found one tree but its wood was too brittle. Then he would find another but it was too soggy. Finally, after hours and hours of searching he found a tree with the wood he was looking for. It was an old tree and it wasn't too brittle or too soggy. It wasn't too light or it wasn't too dark. It was perfect.

The only thing that stopped him from chopping the wood was a swarm of mosquitoes. Every time he tried getting near it, the mosquitoes would fly into his eyes or into his ears. But he noticed something. They didn't bite him. He thought to himself, 'Well, if they're not biting me, they're no problem at all!' So he walked closer and closer to the tree even though the mosquitoes buzzed in his ear and tickled the insides of his nose. He raised his axe up into the air, ready to swing when he heard a voice.

'Don't cut down the tree! Don't cut down the tree!' The voices belonged to the mosquitoes.

'But I promised my wife that I would give her the most beautiful rocking chair for when we had our child. I must!"

'There will be a price to pay if you do.'

'I will do whatever it takes to get my hands on this wood.'

'If you choose to cut this tree, we must bite you.'

It seemed like a reasonable bargain. After all, he had been bitten by mosquitoes before.

'That's all? Then fine. You can bite me. But I am taking this wood.'

'As you wish,' they chanted. The mosquitoes tickling the insides of his ears and nose retreated to the periphery, leaving one single mosquito on his wrist. It was almost as though it was looking right into his eyes, asking him if he had changed his mind before piercing his skin and sucking just a tiny drop of blood.

Having paid his price, the woodsman razed the tree and loaded it onto his cart. He hadn't taken three steps away from the spot where the tree fell when he felt the most horrible, burning pain searing through his veins. He collapsed onto the ground and screamed for help but nobody heard him. He called out to the mosquitoes but they were long gone. He could do nothing but go into a deep, painful sleep.

When he woke up days later, the pain was gone. Thinking about how worried his wife must be he pulled the wood back to his house. He ran to his wife to wrap his arms around her but she screamed at the sight of him and shooed him away.

'What's wrong, my dear wife?' he asked, 'Do you not love your husband anymore?'

'You're not my husband,' she spat threatening to hit him with a saucepan, 'My husband is no monster. Go away before I call for help!"

Heartbroken, the woodsman wandered back into the woods and knelt over a pond to get a drink of water. When the first drop touched his tongue he spat it out. It tasted of the vilest medicine one could imagine. Looking down at the water, he finally saw why his wife had shooed him away. His eyes were a dark crimson color and his skin was paler than chalk.

He scuttled away from the pond unwilling to believe that he had indeed become a monster. He was thirsty but the water tasted horrid. Any fruit he picked tasted like sand. What was he to do? He sat there for hours almost losing consciousness when he smelled the most delectable fragrance he had ever smelled.

Can you guess what he smelled? It was a little girl just like you. He was so hungry that he snuck up behind her on the tip of his toes and when she reached out her hand to pluck a fruit from a tree he grasped it tightly and sucked all her blood out.

And that was what he'd become, this woodsman. Because he didn't listen to the parasites before cutting down their tree he was now like them. He dared not go back to the village in fear of killing his wife, so he watched her from afar. He watched as she gave birth to their beautiful son and he watched him grow into a man. He watched him get married and have children of his own. He watched his beautiful wife age even though he himself didn't change even a little since the day he was bitten.

He watched from afar as his wife died and then years, decades later he watched his son and then his son's children die. He roamed the world watching generation replace generation. He saw how empires rose and empires fell. But all the time, he watched from afar.

Finally there came a day when the stars began to die and fall out of the sky. The world began to fold up like a piece of paper. With every piece of the world that folded, the woodsman saw a loved one he had long lost approach him. Only they weren't really his loved ones. Their flesh was half eaten by mites and their bones were hanging out from their bodies. One of the people that came to him was his wife.

'Why didn't you listen?' she shrieked, 'Why didn't you listen when they told you not to cut it down?'

Overwhelmed by being able to be with his wife again he embraced her but quickly let go when he felt her gnawing at his flesh. Before he could push her away from him he was pinned down by all those whose blood he had fed on. They tore his flesh away from his bones and savored its taste one bite at a time. He implored them to hurry up and end his misery but they wouldn't comply. They took their time and the last image the bloodsucking woodsman had on his mind before dying was that of his beloved wife digging her teeth into his still beating heart."

I stared at him for some time before giggling, "Mosquitoes don't talk, Edward!"

He sighed in mock defeat, "Well, I suppose there's no fooling you, Bella is there?"

I shook my head and settled myself back in his lap again.

"And won't you look at that," he said looking at the clock over the kitchen table, "It's midnight. We did it."

I nodded and yawned.

"Maybe you should go to bed now."

"Maybe," I said snuggling up to him again.

He took me to the upstairs room and tucked me into bed. "_Doux rêves_, Bella," he said.

"Wait!" I said holding onto his hand as he was about to leave. I pulled his face down low enough so that I could kiss him on the cheek. My eyes closed as I heard the last sounds of his boots against the wooden floors slowly fading away.

It wasn't until now, as I lay helpless, in a strange bed far away from the place I once called home, that I understood just how terrifying the story was. I felt as though I was the woodsman, outliving all my loved ones and watching my whole life fall apart. My body was no longer the same and if I ever could go back to _Les Fourchettes_, I wouldn't be welcome.

_What am I going to do?_

I didn't know. I had a roof over my head for now. But what was I going to do once I fully recovered? I didn't have a home to go back to and nobody would possibly want to employ me. How long could I take advantage of the Cullens' hospitality?

"Are you ready, Bella?"

I looked up to see Monsieur Cullen looking at me. He had pulled up a chair next to me so that he could work on my leg more comfortably.

I nodded in reply to his question.

"Ah, come on, Bella. You're going to see your leg for the first time in months. Let's see a smile on that pretty face of yours."

I gave him a weak smile. In reality, I had been in no mood to smile since I heard that Papa had died almost a month ago. My head ached from crying whenever I was alone and my body had grown weak from not having the appetite to eat anything. I smiled though, for Monsieur Cullen. He had worked so hard to get to this day.

He carefully dismantled my injured leg from the sling and got to work. I watched in awe and he expertly sliced through the bandages with a blade and examined my scarred leg. He was so focused on my leg that he didn't even blink. I didn't think that was even possible but there he was right in front of me, not blinking.

Though they were the kindest people I'd known besides Papa and Madame Elizabeth, I couldn't help but notice that there was something different about the Cullens. For someone who was adopted Alice's pallid skin and auburn eyes bore a striking resemblance to those of Monsieur Cullen. They did their best to avoid direct skin-to-skin contact with me but sometimes, say for when Alice was helping me bathe, her fingertips would touch the back of my ear, sending a chill down the rest of my body.

Monsieur Cullen seemed too young to be a father as well as a highly accomplished doctor. He seemed to take his craft unusually seriously. Like I said before, he never seemed to blink when he examined my injuries. Sometimes, when he would change the bandages on my leg behind the screen, I could swear he wasn't breathing.

They didn't seem to enjoy food as much as I did. When Alice brought me my delicious meals she would simply watch me eat. Feeling bad, I would offer her some of my food sometimes but she always declined. She did humor me once by tasting some of my strawberries and cream but rather than enjoying such a tasty treat, she looked as though she'd just swallowed a spoonful of mud. She also seemed to be uncharacteristically strong for a girl of such a small build. When she helped me move onto the wheelchair, it seemed that she was able to carry my entire weight. I'd looked her up and down but she seemed smaller and lighter than I was when I was healthier.

A fluttering noise from my window brought me out of my musings. Monsieur Cullen had heard it as well. "Sounds like there's a bird nesting somewhere above your window."

"Is that what it is?"

"Well it can be anything," he grinned, "but I'd much rather like to think that it's a bird than think that we have a rat problem in the house."

"No, it sounds smaller than a rat. I'd know. I once found a dead rat in our backyard." My heart sank as I recalled shrieking for Papa when I saw it.

The doctor pressed his glove-covered palm against my foot, "I've heard that it's good luck for a bird to nest outside your house. Press your foot into my palm, child."

I did as he asked but it wasn't of much use. His hand didn't move an inch.

After checking to see if my leg's reflexes were still functioning he cleared his throat, "Your muscles have become weak from not using them for so long. I'll have to put you through a rigorous exercise regime to build those muscles again, Bella. You will need to be very regular and understand the exercises very carefully."

I looked at my scarred and bruised leg and then turned my gaze to him again.

"Don't worry, child. Remember what I told you in the very beginning? You will need a lot of willpower to get through this. I will be here with you every step of the way."

I nodded at him and smiled. He called in Alice so that he could show her my exercise routine. When we had gone through it, Carlisle steadied me on my feet and helped me walk around the room at a snail's pace.

By the time the doctor called it a day I was half asleep. Monsieur Cullen got his needle and bottle of morphine ready. Ever since I heard that Papa was no more, I had been waking up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of my lungs. I kept seeing his face and our house and all that used to be. It was taking a toll on my health and Monsieur Cullen forced me to take the relaxant every night before going to bed.

"Monsieur Cullen," I said groggily, "if you don't mind, I think I'd like to try sleeping without the medicine tonight."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm so tired from all the physical activity," I explained, "I haven't done so much in quite some time. I think I can sleep without its help tonight."

He nodded, "Alright, but if you have any trouble sleeping you will call for me?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good then, _doux rêves!_"

"Goodnight."

And so I slept all night without the aid of medicine for the first time in weeks. The next few weeks proved to be so exhausting that I barely had any time to ponder on the loss of my father and the life that I knew. I focused only on getting better. Alice would help me do my exercises meticulously without missing a single count or a single irregularity in posture. Monsieur Cullen gave me permission to walk short distances, to the bathroom for instance, with the aid of a cane but I always had to be under someone's supervision while doing so.

I still suffered from intense pain in my injured leg and lower back. As my body grew accustomed to the physical activity, it became harder for me to sleep the entire night. I began dreaming again and one night, woke up writhing in pain again.

"Bella, are you okay?"

I instantly sat up on my bed and looked in the direction of the armoire, "Yes – yes…I'm fine. Thank you."

He remained silent. So much had happened over the past few weeks that I didn't get a chance to speak to Edward. Alice and the doctor must have told him all about the progress I was making.

"You know," I said, lying back down, "this is very unfair."

"What is?" he whispered.

"You must know everything about me and I don't even know what you look like."

"Quite the contrary actually," he said, "I don't know a thing about you."

I frowned, "Doctor Cullen and Alice haven't been telling you about my progress?"

"Of course they have but that doesn't necessarily mean I know you, does it? It just means that I know that you're getting better which makes me happy."

"Oh, well that's really all there is to me," I said, "I'm quite plain."

"Not at all," he assured from his dark corner, "you're quite difficult to read."

That was a strange way of putting it. "Is it easier for you to 'read' other people?"

"It is, actually," he said after a slight pause.

I remembered that Edward was a writer and thought of how a writer must be able to dissect personalities in order to convey the traits of a character to a reader. He must refer to this dissection as 'reading'. From what I've read of his writing, he seemed like a very perceptive writer. He must have been good at 'reading' people as well. Why was I so difficult to read?

"Is there something wrong with me?" I asked pathetically.

"Pardon?"

"Why is it so hard for you to 'read' me?"

"Bella, I meant it as a compliment. Most women your age only care about materialistic things. They're only concerned with accumulating trophies. In the months you've stayed here you've never asked for a thing that you can do without. That in itself sets you apart from the majority of women I know so I can't assume anything about the type of person you are."

I considered what he said and couldn't help but smile, "You know, when I was a little girl, the other girls always teased me because I didn't play with dolls or play princess with them. Even after I grew up, they'd snigger behind my back because I wouldn't chase boys around the village with them. What you said really means a lot to me. Thank you."

Edward was silent for a very long time before saying, "You don't have any friends your age?"

I studied my nails as I shook my head, "No. Well, I used have a few acquaintances – girls I went to school with. We would talk now and then but they all stopped talking to me when a boy they all admired started pursuing me. I kept telling them that I didn't see him in that light but they wouldn't listen."

"Who was he?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible.

"A boy I've known a long time – Jacob"

"Jacob Noir?" he inquired tersely, "The leathersmith Jacob?"

I thought the Cullens lived a long way away from _Les Fourchettes_. It was a small town where the news of a visitor would spread like wildfire. Surely someone would have noticed if one of the Cullens visited.

"How do you know Jacob?"

"Er – Alice had to have her boot repaired once. She tells me he did a wonderful job."

He didn't sound very convincing. There was something he wasn't telling me and it was making me feel very uncomfortable. I could sense from the way he said Jacob's name that he had, at some point, crossed paths with him. All the things he just said about knowing nothing about me suddenly didn't ring very true.

"Jacob is a very common name. How did you know that I was talking about Jacob Noir?"

His tone had become frighteningly gruff, "I didn't know that there was more than one Jacob in your village, Bella."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, "You just sounded like you knew him personally."

"Not at all," he said curtly, "I've had no reason to have had any interaction with him."

I didn't believe him but I didn't want to anger him any further. I didn't, after all, know what this man was capable of. I simply stared at the dark corner by the armoire before whispering, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he kept saying, "it's alright." It was as though he was saying it to himself, to assure himself of something.

"I'm sorry," I said again after some time.

"Bella, I told you, it's fine."

"No, not about that. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you company these past weeks. I know you have trouble sleeping."

He sighed, "Bella, you have nothing to apologize for. Your entire world has been turned upside down over the last few months. Helping me cope with my insomnia should be the least of your worries. All you should care about now is getting better."

"I suppose," I said looking at the closed window. For a second, I'd thought I heard that familiar fluttering sound again. Perhaps there was a bird nesting outside like the doctor had said. But why would it be moving at this time? Perhaps it was stuck in a vent somewhere!

"Did you write then?" I asked, turning my attention back to my nighttime companion.

"Sorry, I didn't hear what you said," he stuttered as though he had been momentarily distracted by the noise as well.

"You said you write at night when you're not here talking to me. Did you get a chance to write?"

"No, not really. I've had a lot on my mind as of late."

"Oh, that's too bad."

We were silent again. There was so much I wanted to know about his writing. I wanted to ask about the text I'd found in the library but was afraid he would be angry for me not having asked him first.

"Carlisle tells me that you're making a lot of progress," he finally said, "He's very happy about that."

_Trrrrrrr Trrrrrr_

That noise! A bird would definitely not be active at this time of day. I sat up and reached for my walking cane.

I could hear Edward shift his weight to a position where he felt more alert, "Bella, what are you doing? Should I call Carlisle…or- or Alice?"

"It's fine," I assured him as I clumsily balanced myself on my feet, "really, I've had so much practice. I'm sure the doctor has told you that I need to be constantly watched while I'm walking but there's no need for that. I just want to see where that sound is coming from."

"Bella, I'm sure it's nothing. You should go back to bed."

I slowly limped to the window with the aid of my cane and opened the window panes. The fluttering resumed. It seemed to be coming overhead so I leaned forward a little and tried to catch a glimpse of the noise-making critter from an angle.

"I'll go get Alice," I heard Edward say.

"Edward, there's really no need," I said, my eyes locking with something small and black fighting against the vines on the wall, "I think I see it."

I leaned forward some more and stuck my cane out of the window to poke whatever it was. The silly girl that I was, I didn't realize just how far out the window I'd leaned over while trying to free the winged creature. As soon as my cane touched it, its wings assaulted my eyes causing me to lose my balance.

_This is it_, I thought, _all of Monsieur Cullen's hard work and I throw myself out of a window._

I clamped my stinging eyes shut waiting to hear my bones crunch on the ground three floors below but I never heard it.

One moment I felt my body giving way to the indestructible force of gravity, the next I felt my entire form being held tightly by a pair of strong, unyielding arms. I looked down at the arms clutching my waist, perhaps a touch too hard, and noticed the same pallid skin as that of Alice and Monsieur Cullen. My mind was instantly flooded with questions about this strange family but my savior's scent pushed those questions out immediately.

I had smelled it before.

Somewhere near a fire.

It was sweeter now, somehow amplified.

"Bella," he spoke into my ear, his tone full of panic, "are you okay?"

He released my waist, waiting for my answer.

"Edward?" I gasped, still staring out the window.

He didn't answer.

I pivoted around my cane to look him in the eyes.

My rescuer could probably have been considered God's greatest masterpiece. He stood in front of me, a good foot taller than me. His chiseled features seemed to be sculpted with the greatest precision and rather than taking away from his perfection, his tousled bronze hair seemed to compliment it.

But I had seen this perfect man before. Seeing him now defied all logic.

I fell to the floor, overwhelmed by what I was seeing. Part of me wanted to rejoice at what I was seeing while the other part called me insane.

Whether it was the aggravated pain in my leg or the shear mental trauma that had caused me to lose consciousness, I don't know. All I remember was Edward's panic stricken eyes looking me over and his frantic cry for help.

* * *

**A/N: Aah...so we know that Bella isn't feeling too well. How're you doing? Leave me a REVIEW and tell me. Lets get the review count up to 50!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**BPOV**

I always believed there was something wrong with me. Now I had no doubt.

What I had seen before my body gave way was by no means normal yet, for the first time in months, I slept soundly without the interruption of nightmares or of pain. A smile spread across my face when the warm rays of the morning sun brushed my cheek. It was almost as though the past few months, no, the past few years had been erased from my memory.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I looked up, past the chiffon drapes and saw him sitting across the room in an armchair. He looked away as soon as he realized that I'd seen him looking at me. I looked him up and down, adding details to the blurry image of him I had as a child. I noted his long lashes that seemed to get tangled in one another as he looked down. His long, slender fingers gripped his knee and the arm of the chair.

Overwhelmed by an unexplainable urge to run over to him and climb on to his lap, I quickly sat up and attempted to get out of bed but the throbbing in my right leg brought me back to reality and reminded me that I was no longer a little girl. Instead I leaned back against my pillows and observed him.

He still hadn't looked me in the eye. His still posture reminded me of a statue. I opened my mouth to say something but I was completely lost for words. After a long silence I finally managed to say, "Edward."

His grip on the armrest tightened and his jaw clenched at the sound of his own name. When he finally met my gaze, his eyes were livid. "Isabella," he said through gritted teeth.

Flinching at the way he said my name, I pulled my knees to my chest, creating a barrier between us. I held his gaze, however. I had questions and I wanted them answered.

"Edward, is it really you? I can't be imagining you here can I?"

He looked away again and focused on the door. His demeanor was poised and calm but something about the way he stared at the door gave me the impression that he desperately wanted to leave.

"Am I keeping you from something?"

He shook his head.

"You look the same as I remember you. Well I don't know if you look completely the same. It was a long time ago."

He remained silent. I waited.

"Edward, please say something."

He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, "Why aren't you afraid?"

"Why would I be afraid, Edward? It's you. After all this time, I'm seeing you."

"Isabella, how many years has it been since I disappeared?"

"I –um – fourteen years, I think."

He raised his voice, "Isabella, look at me!" Anger and desperation were etched across his face.

"Why are you calling me that? You know I don't like being called that."

"Isabella, focus on the matter at hand please," he said as my blood boiled, "Look at me. Don't you find it the least bit strange that I haven't changed at all over the past fourteen years?"

"I can't possibly remember all the details. I was so young."

"You're not concentrating," he slapped the armrest, leaving a significant dent, "Look closer."

He was right. I wasn't able to focus. I was too distracted by the large imperfection in the curve of the armrest. A simple slap couldn't possibly have bruised a strong piece of wood so. First Alice is able to almost single-handedly carry me all the way to the bathroom and now Edward disfigures an armchair with a single swipe of his hand. What were these people eating? How could they possibly be so strong with so little effort? Was it because…

My eyes shot back to Edward's face. His pallor resembled that of the Doctor and Alice. His eyes, which I distinctly remember to be a beautiful emerald green, were now auburn just like the others. He was all of twenty-three when he disappeared which would make him thirty-seven years old now. His frame, as I studied it closely, was not that of a thirty-seven year old. In fact, he still had the lean physique of a youth.

He waited on the edge of his seat for me to say something but I did nothing but gape at him.

"You look the same," I finally said in a shaky voice.

Understanding that I finally saw what was amiss he nodded, "Yes."

"Edward," I said, trying to find a hint of green in those haunting auburn irises, "I don't – I don't know…I don't understand. Please tell me you're the same Edward Masen I remember from my childhood."

"I'm sorry Isabella, I truly wish I was but I – I don't want to lie to you."

Tears threatened to escape the very eyes that could see this man that I thought I knew, sitting before me. However, this was no time to break down. I straightened my posture as best as I could, lifted my chin up and looked straight into his eyes, "What are you?"

The irritation vanished from his face as he took a deep breath and searched my face for something.

"I told you a story once…it was such a long time ago – do you remember? It was on Christmas Eve and you wanted so much to stay awake till midnight but you were so young and-"

"I remember," I softly said, suddenly bombarded with memories of the most inviting scent – a natural scent of soap and earth- and the velvety feel of his sweater against my cheeks. Running my fingers across my cheek, I could almost feel the burning sensation that followed his little prank.

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. "I remember," was all I could say again.

"What do you remember? Do you remember the story?"

Of course I remembered. It was about a man who had lost everything: His wife, his son, his friends…Why would Edward, or whoever he is, find it so important? The Edward I knew had everything. He had a mother, he had a fiancée and most importantly he had his entire life ahead of him.

No, there must be something I'm missing. Edward was a skilled storyteller. He would have used a lot of details.

_Think, Bella, think._

The woodsman was bitten by a mosquito. He saw his reflection in the water. What did he see? Crimson eyes and…

Pale white skin.

I closed my eyes and concentrated harder. He roamed the woods, preying on young girls who would venture out to pick fruit. He outlived his family and the generations that came after them and…

His physical form never changed.

No.

The man sitting before me was not a monster. He and his family nurtured me back to health. I wouldn't still be alive if he was who he implied he was.

"Edward," I whispered, "but mosquitoes don't talk."

He laughed hysterically and buried his head in his hands. Slowly, his laugh turned to dry sobs.

"Edward, I know you're not the monster in the story. You can't possibly be. You and the Cullens have been nothing but kind to me. And the mons- I mean the woodsman, he had crimson eyes but not you. Just – just explain so that I can understand."

I'd gotten out of bed and begun hobbling towards him. He looked up in horror and got up from his seat, whizzing to the door in the blink of an eye.

"How did you –" I started but he cut me off mid-sentence.

"Why aren't you afraid?" he asked, his hand inching towards the doorknob.

I took a step towards him, "Because –"

"Please!" he interrupted, "Please don't come any closer. I don't know if I'll be able to – able to –"

I stood frozen in between where he was at the door and my bed, "Able to what?"

He straightened up to his full height and menacingly exhaled, "I won't be able to control myself."

His tone forced me to take a few clumsy steps back, "Against what?"

"Your blood. I can hear your heart hammering away like mad, pumping blood to every crack and crevice inside your body and it's taking me all my self-control not to sink my teeth right into that pulse of yours and suck you dry."

By now I had walked back far enough to have the back of my knees touch the bed linens. I fell onto the bed and sat their frozen, but never removed my eyes from his.

"Now, are you afraid?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't hurt me. You've refrained from doing so for so long. Why would you do it now?"

Edward sighed and returned to his armchair.

"You still haven't told me what you are," I said, hoping for some more information.

"Me and my family, we're vampires but we prefer to be called Sanguinarians."

"And you-um – feed off of…blood?"

"Yes. But my family and I, we are different. Most of our kind feed on human blood but not us."

I nodded to show that I was listening intently.

"Carlisle, he doesn't believe in the murder of human beings for food. Instead, he trained us to live off animal blood. We call ourselves vegetarians."

"If you're a vegetarian, why are you so concerned about hurting me? I can't imagine you'll like my blood very much after drinking animal blood all this time."

"Isabella," he shook his head, "We are manufactured to drink human blood. Living off animal's blood is like living on wine in the middle of a desert! It can drive you mad. The scent of human blood is like the sight of water. It sends us into a sort of frenzy."

I gulped, "So you really do crave my blood at this moment?"

"Yes," he licked his lips, "so much."

I covered myself in my sheets, as though they would be enough protection from someone who wanted to suck all the blood from my body. But that was the extent of my fear towards him. I didn't have any desire to scream or run away. I was simply entranced by what I saw before me.

"Why," I continued my line of questioning, "why are you a…Sanguinarian – did I say that correctly?"

"My father," he said softly, "Not Carlisle but my biological father had a childhood friend named Laurent who disappeared in the woods near _Les Fourchettes_. Everyone thought that he had been attacked by a pack of wolves. Years later, a few years after I was born, he was traveling through the woods to get to the main road when he came across this Laurent character. He hadn't aged a day over twenty.

Papa didn't completely know what had happened to him but he understood that he had somehow obtained the gift – that's what he called it - of eternal life. He told Maman and when I got sick she thought she'd be able to get Laurent to share this curse with me so that I can live. Only Laurent was a nomad. He doesn't stay in one place for very long. Carlisle, however, is a permanent resident and he happened to be hunting that night. He saw that all life was leaving me and took pity on my hysterical mother. He would never have changed me otherwise."

"And Laurent? Did you ever see him?"

"A few times but we don't get along very well. He's not like my family."

"What do you mean?"

"He preys on humans, Isabella."

"Oh," I said playing with the bed cover, "But then why didn't he kill Monsieur Masen when they met?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, probably asking himself the same question, "Maybe he wasn't hungry."

I chuckled at the absurdity of the situation and relaxed back into my pillow. Edward had been watching my every move like a hawk.

"I hope you're not taking all this lightly, Isabella." There wasn't the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, "Papa got lucky. Not everyone is."

I bit onto my bottom lip, a little embarrassed.

"I'm going to be very honest with you," he continued, "Us Sanguinarians, we have a code you see. We are to keep a distance between humans and ourselves so that we do not attract unnecessary attention to ourselves. Discovery of our kind would have dire consequences. Nobody will stop to differentiate between vegetarians and non-vegetarians. We will be nothing but a threat to the balance of society and if there is a confrontation we will be overpowered." Edward's fists were clenched and his eyes had a strange fire burning in them as he spoke that caused me to recoil a little, "Having you in this house itself jeopardizes my family and now that you know what we really are…"

Alice burst in through the door with my breakfast before he could finish. Her face was beaming, "Good morning to you, Bella." She turned to Edward and glared at him, "That's enough from you now. Go see if Carlisle needs any help."

His tensed body slowly relaxed and he quirked an eyebrow at Alice, "What would Carlisle need help with?"

She rolled her eyes, "Just please leave the room Edward! I don't think Bella would like it if you sat here while I help her take a bath."

He looked at me briefly before looking down at the floor. Stumbling out of his seat, he hurried towards the door, "Yes, you're right. I'll leave you two to it then."

He stepped out of the room and was about to shut the door behind him when I called to him, "Edward!"

He turned to me. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Without saying another word, he left. Alice sighed, "Ah Men!" She nudged the tray towards me for me to start eating.

"Alice?"

"Yes Bella?"

"Why aren't you bothered about my knowing about – well you know, like Edward?"

"Because," she said dragging out the word, "I know everything will be fine in the end."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she winked.

"I didn't know I was putting all of you in so much danger. I really didn't mean to-"

"Bella please! Just eat your food. I'm telling you, we'll be fine. Edward just likes exaggerating and complicating everything. I can't say I expect anything less – he is after all a writer."

I picked up my fork and prodded my crepe with it, "What's going to happen to me Alice?"

"Well, first we're going to fatten you up a little. What's the use of human blood if it doesn't have the right nutrition in it?"

I stared at her with my mouth wide open.

"Oh Bella," she laughed, "I'm only joking. You know we're not like that."

I stuck my tongue out at her like a child and resumed eating my crepe.

"Listen," she said placing a cold, comforting hand on mine, "Carlisle is working on the details as we speak. Trust me, we will do everything we can to settle you back into a normal lifestyle, hopefully away from us."

Away from Alice. Away from Monsieur Cullen.

Away from Edward.

I went through my daily routine as usual. I was back in bed in the afternoon, flipping through the pages of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ and thinking about when I would see Edward again. My heart caught in my throat when I heard the doorknob turn.

It wasn't him. It was Monsieur Cullen. Like Alice, he didn't seem to be bothered or angry about the fact that I'd found out. He was his usual pleasant self.

"How are you feeling today, Bella? You took quite a fall last night."

"A little strange," I replied honestly.

"I can imagine. You should be happy though. You are making wonderful progress."

_Does that mean I have to leave sooner?_

"I know you're worried about what's to come, Bella. Edward and I discussed in great length what we could do to help rehabilitate you when you're fit enough."

A few months ago, I would have been happy with such news. I was getting better and I would have had a home to go back to. Now not only did I not have somewhere to go, I would have to leave behind my only link to my past – Edward.

"We have thought of two options," he continued, "the first is that we can give you a lum-sum of money with which you can buy back your father's property and start up the farm again. The second is that we – Edward, Rosalie and I – can tutor you in various fields up to the required level so that you can sit for an entrance exam for a place at _La Sorbonne_ next summer. Once you have gotten in, we can discreetly pay the tuition for your education and you will be free to live your life."

I stared at him wide-eyed, not believing what he was saying. He was offering me an education. I was being given an opportunity to realize my wildest dreams.

_He has got to be joking. This has to be some sort of dream. I'm going to wake up at any moment now._

"Monsieur Cullen," I gasped, "What are you saying?"

"The choice is yours Bella. You are a special part of my son's life and I want to help you."

Silent tears ran down my cheeks as I tried to find words of gratitude, "Thank you so much. I – I don't know what to-"

"Bella, it will be my pleasure," he smiled.

"I'd like for you to tutor me Monsieur Cullen, please." I said

"Edward thought you might like that option," he smirked.

I felt my face getting hot but Monsieur Cullen didn't seem to notice.

"When can we start?" I asked enthusiastically.

"I've telephoned Rosalie already. She's on her way. She'll be taking care of Mathematics and Physics. I'll be handling Biology and Chemistry. Edward will be teaching language, literature and the social sciences. He's got his work cut out for him. Not as much as you though. Get your rest. If all is well, we'll start tomorrow"

He left me bouncing in my bed from excitement. Not only was I being given something someone of my background could only dream of but I would get to spend so much more time with Edward now.

The next day Alice woke me up early and helped me through my exercise routine. While I was bathing she brought in a green A-line dress with small butterflies embroidered on the right shoulder.

"Let's see if this fits you," holding it out to me as I dried myself up.

"Alice, this is much too extravagant."

She looked at the dress quizzically, "Extravagant? It's the simplest of simple. It's too big for me as it is. I'd rather you wear it instead of it rotting away in the pits of my armoire."

"Alice, I can't!"

"Oh no, I'll tell you what you can't. You can't go to your lessons in a nightgown. We're preparing you for a Parisian lifestyle Bella. Now put it on."

I let her words sink in. I could no longer act like a peasant girl if I was to fit in with the university community. Taking the dress from Alice I pulled it over my head and looked at myself in the mirror.

The fabric hugged curves I didn't know I even had and almost made me look elegant. As my eyes traveled down the length of my body, I grimaced at my exposed scarred leg where the skin had adopted a bluish tinge.

Alice found me staring at my leg with a crinkled nose, "You look beautiful Bella. Don't let a few scars make you think otherwise."

She helped me brush my hair off my face and clipped it back with a barrette. Once we were done, she carried me downstairs to the ground floor, since she now had no reason to hide her strength from me, and helped me hobble to the dining room.

Sitting at the end of the ornate room, with a stack of leather bound books in front of her, was a stunning beauty with golden hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her stature and posture reminded me of a lioness and I was intimidated by the mere sight of her.

"Bella," Alice said, helping me into my chair, "This is Rosalie. Rosalie, Bella."

"So you're the one causing all the ruckus," Rosalie grinned as she held out her hand to me. "I can see why."

She exchanged a smirk with Alice as though they were two adolescents with a secret.

"Well I'll leave you two to it then!" Alice chirped as she hopped off. "I'll be back with your lunch, Bella and Rosalie, it's her first day. Don't try to teach her anything too hard."

Rosalie rolled her eyes and waved her off. She smiled at me and said, "So Bella, I don't know how much mathematics you've done. Why don't you tell me?"

I told her that I'd done rudimentary arithmetic but nothing else. She nodded and quickly drew up a plan. We'd first begin with algebra, then geometry and then go on to more complicated topics that involved a little of both. She didn't want to start Physics till I had enough grasp over algebra.

We spent the rest of the morning doing elementary algebra. Rosalie was surprised at how quickly I picked everything up, how I could easily manipulate all the numbers onto their respective sides of the equal sign. When Alice had come in with my lunch, she told her that she thought that I could finish everything within five months.

I rested on one of the plush couches in the sitting area in the afternoon. Monsieur Cullen came to check on me and made me stretch a little so that my legs didn't get stiff. He told me that he would start teaching me once I had a better foundation in math.

"Science is nothing without mathematics," he said, "It can't be helped. Not very good news for those who squirm at the sight of numbers but Rosalie tells me you're a natural."

I was to have lessons with Edward in the evening and knowing so made it difficult to get any rest whatsoever.

Alice helped me to the ground floor entrance to the library after an early dinner at five-thirty. Fixing my hair she ushered me inside. When I turned around, the door was closed and Alice had left.

Hobbling around the vast room littered with books of all sizes, I found Edward perched against the windowsill looking out at the setting sun.

I cleared my throat to alert him of my presence, "Edward?"

'Isabella! Ah yes, good you're here. Take a seat and we can get started." I didn't sense any agitation from yesterday in his tone but then again, I didn't sense any emotion in his tone at all.

I took a seat at a reading desk by a window and watched as he gathered several books from around the library. He spoke when he finally came back, "I understand that you've read a lot of French literature while you were working for Madame Ceccaldi?"

I flinched at the sound of her name, not because she was a horrible mistress but because Edward had once been engaged to her. There wasn't the slightest hint of sorrow or longing in his voice when he had spoken her name. It was almost as though that part of Edward, the one from _Les Fourchettes_ didn't exist at all.

"Yes," I said simply.

"And I take it that you haven't learned any English?"

"No, actually I haven't."

"Well, the easiest way to learn a new language is by reading it and speaking it. We're going to start with this," he said as he tossed a copy of _The Prisoner of Zenda_ on to the table, "Read it as you do French and I'll go through the meaning of the words with you."

I turned to the first page and read the first sentence. Edward then took a pencil and wrote out what each of the words meant in the margin of the book. We continued doing so for quite some time. With every sentence I read, he would lean in closer to write down the meanings. There came a point where I could almost feel his breath on my hair and on my neck.

Besides being in such close proximity to him, the lesson itself was slow and rather tedious. I had only made it to page six when the clock struck nine. I had been droning on for almost three hours.

Edward finished explaining the last line of the chapter and cleared his throat, "That will be all for today."

I closed the book and got up.

"Take it with you," he said, "Go through what we've done and you will read it to me again in the morning."

He looked at me one last time before leaving me alone. Picking the book up, I took my walking cane and headed out to the foyer. The house was silent and everyone must've have retired for the day.

When I reached the staircase, I squared my shoulders and sucked my stomach in as I attempted to climb the first step. A small yelp escaped my mouth and echoed in the stillness as the throbbing pain, I had somehow kept at bay all this time, shot through my leg up to my lower back.

"Isabella, are you out of your mind?" Edward exclaimed, his voice laced with worry as he grabbed hold of my waist so that I could steady myself, "Why didn't you call for Alice or Rosalie?"

"I didn't want to trouble them. I'm sorry."

I had only just regained my balance when I felt my feet being lifted off the floor and being cradled like a child in Edward's arms. Reflexively, my arms wrapped themselves around his neck so that I wouldn't fall.

He began his slow ascent up the stairs. The scent of soap and earth that his skin emanated was almost intoxicating. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he took each step. It took all my restraint not to run the tips of my fingers along his strong, sharp jaw line, up his rugged chin and stop at his inviting, delectable lips.

My hold on him tightened as he slowly made his way up one flight, then the other. He took in long, deep breaths – probably taking in the scent of my blood – and tightened his hold on me as we got closer and closer to the third floor.

He didn't put me down, once we were on the third floor landing. Perhaps he was going to carry me all the way to my room. But he didn't put me down when he reached the door to my room either. Instead, he lightly kicked the door open and carried me to my bed where he gently lay me down and hovered over me.

He studied my facial features closely and I let him. Leaning down a little more he took in a whiff of my scent and trembled. He was trying to fight his urge to drink my blood. I knew that he was fully capable of snapping my body in half with one swift movement and I knew that I should be afraid. But I felt something else as I looked at him, looking at me at such close proximity. Something I couldn't fully explain.

My face grew hot again and I turned away. Edward straightened up and headed towards the door.

"Wait," I called out.

He stopped in his tracks.

"Won't you be staying?

"Not tonight, Bella."

And then he was gone.

I lay there in my bed and touched the face he had been looking at so closely. My eyes remained fixed on the closed door in hopes of it opening again but nobody came that night. I fell asleep, in my day clothes, clutching the book to my chest, dreaming of him.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the delay in update! Hopefully I'll be able to update again pretty soon. REVIEWS are better than being carried up three flights of stairs by Edward!**


End file.
